Red
by ScarletDrizzle
Summary: Willow had never really liked being called "Red". She thought it was a bit redundant, with her hair generally being around to make the point on its own. But now... she was starting to like that name. It reminded her of blood. Of the pain that came with blood. She liked that thought. Besides, can any vampire really help but love the color? [AU post-Seeing Red. Vampire Willow & W/T]
1. Dust

**_Word limits suck so here's a better summary_** ** _:_** _Willow had never really liked being called "Red". She thought it was a bit redundant, with her hair generally being around to make the point on its own. But now... she was starting to like that name. It reminded her of blood. Of the pain that came with blood. She liked that thought. Besides, can any Vampire really help but love the color?_ Willow is turned, and suddenly, the Scoobies' world is also turned upside down. Who is this person, and can she ever be the Willow they knew and loved? Can Buffy stand to mourn and fight at the same time - with the same person? How far can emotions blur the line between humanity and a demon? _  
_AU Post-Seeing Red. Heavy Willow/Tara focus.

 ** _How the canon has changed in Seeing Red:_**  
Warren was unable to escape on his jetpack after the attempted back-robbery and confrontation with Buffy (I'd imagine she probably just threw something at the jetpack to make it malfunction). As would logically follow, neither Buffy nor Tara got shot, Dark Willow never came into existence, and the nerd squad got locked up in prison for a good while. It would seem that the Big Bad has been defeated, and all's well in the world!  
Spike's disappeared out of town, and no one really knows if he'll come back (whether or not this is because of the attempt in _Seeing Red_ is unclear, it depends on if I want to deal with that issue as the story progresses. Whether or not he comes back is also unclear, as this story starts early in the summer between S6 and S7.)

 ** _Previously On:_** _(aka, how our characters have changed since Seeing Red, and where we meet them at the start of this tale)_  
Xander and Anya are in a bit of a weird place. Both are still deeply hurt by the other's actions (though some more justified that others), but they've come to accept having to deal with each other's presence... The bonding moments otherwise seen in _Two to Go_ have still happened, but just in different circumstances.  
Buffy's feeling up to living for the first time since coming back. Assume that her mental state (and her relationship with Dawn) are as they were in _Grave_ , but because of different circumstances. She has maintained her close bond with Willow (which was otherwise strained in the canon S6 finale), and has expanded on her friendship with Tara, who has often been her emotional bedrock.  
Willow and Tara are still together, but Willow's been finding it harder to keep with the magic sobriety now that her recovered relationship has lulled her into a false sense of security. She hasn't slipped, and she tells herself she won't slip, but she does hate feeling so powerless. It's quite a bit harder to keep up now that the goal has changed from "until Tara forgives me" to "until forever" (at least subconsciously). She's determined to keep at it, but Goddess does she miss it sometimes... _As she encounters more and more dangerous situations in her time with the Slayer, the temptation to tap back into the magic "to defend herself" becomes harder and harder to resist._ _ **Until she finds she can't resist anymore.**_

* * *

 **::** **Chapter 1** : Dust **::**

* * *

Willow came to the conclusion that she was a fucking idiot.

A growling vampire stood a few feet in front of her, seemingly untouched by the scuffle they'd been having for the past few minutes. Willow could feel her knees weaken under her, and she leaned against the alley wall for support. She was cornered; she was broken. With pants so desperate they hurt her chest, Willow looked around at her friends for help, but she knew none could come. Buffy was just barely keeping her own against the three vampires that were circling her, and Xander… she could hardly tell if he was knocked out or dead… _I guess I'll find out in a bit, won't I?_ she thought to herself dryly.

Here she was, thinking she could hold her own against this guy, unprepared to the highest degree. In a moment of adrenaline and courage, she'd tried to distract one of the vamps that had just ambushed them – more specifically _Buffy_ – leading him into a connecting alley, and readying herself to finally rekindle her magicks. Thinking back, she realized that was probably a big part of her being a fucking idiot. After nearly half a year without touching the magicks, she had finally found the chance to justify feeling that power again, albeit in a life-or-death scenario. How could she resist that power? How could she let her friend be outnumbered and cornered when she knew she could help? How could she push back the crackle of magic that she had felt on her fingertips?

She was such a fucking idiot.

The man in front of her grinned with excitement, sensing her weakness. In the end she had barely been able to touch him, her magicks having both withered away with lack of use, and leaving her body an aching mess. Tears left her eyes as she realized that it had been her own weakness, her own foolishness at underestimating the temptation of relapse, that would finally get her killed… _Tara,_ she thought longingly as the vampire moved ever closer, trapping her against the wall. Thoughts of her reunited lover filled her head, along with the realization that she would never see her again, fueling her with newfound determination and overwhelming anger. She would not let this _thing_ take her love away! They should have been forever, and Willow would gladly die fighting for that _forever_.

Sharp pain enveloped her body as she felt teeth sink into her neck, harder than any love bite she had ever received. There was no love in this, only darkness and evil, slowly sucking away the life from her. With an angry, desperate growl, Willow decided she would return the favor, and chomped down on the man's shoulder, trying to do as much damage as she possibly could. She tasted blood, and felt the man yelp and withdraw for just a second. Just a second, as it turned out, was _not_ enough for her to break free, as her feeble pushes and squirms were no match for even the weakest vampire, further weakened as she was by being bitten. Instead of freedom, Willow was greeted only by a sinister chuckle, and the introduction of a cold hand that forcibly held her face to the bitten shoulder.

As Willow felt the flowing blood of the undead fill her mouth and threaten to choke, a distant part of her realized what was happening, making the most pathetic attempts at retreat. The pain at her neck had returned, and she was quickly losing her remaining strength, along with her consciousness. She swallowed whatever the liquid was that flooded her mouth, desperately grasping at the last threads of life.

 _Tara…_

* * *

Buffy dodged what could have been a fatal lunge from the last vampire, instead making Mr. Pointy the target of his jump and propelling the stake into his heart. Dusted. She took a moment to calm her breath after the encounter, which took far longer than it should have. _Need to start training again…_ she thought as adrenaline and a hint of fear still coursed through her veins. She looked around for her friends after collecting herself, concerned particularly about Xander, who she'd last seen being thrown onto a concrete wall and collapsing to the ground. _Poor Xand_ , she lamented, this was just supposed to be a cheerful trip to the Bronze, but now looked like it would evolve to be a much less cheery trip to the Emergency Ward... She sighed in relief as she saw him slowly regaining consciousness on the other side of the alley, and diverted her attention to where she'd last seen Willow.

Oh God. Willow…

She saw slivers of red laying on a man's shoulder, motionless, being held up only by the arms of the monster buried in her neck… Her hands lay limply at her sides, swaying as if they'd just recently lost the battle against gravity. For a second Buffy couldn't move. She wanted to puke. She wanted to die. She could feel the color drain from her face, and the stake fall to the ground at her side. She stared, speechless, as the vampire retreated his attack on the redhead's neck with a proud grin. She watched as Willow's head rolled around like a ragdoll, white as the ghost costume she's once worn years ago, the warmth drained from her body…

And then the anger came.

In just a second she had the vampire pinned to the ground, stake headed for his chest. From the corner of her eye, she could see Willow… Willow's body… lifelessly drop to the ground. This time she could _feel_ the vomit coming, but it wasn't nearly as strong as the rage that still enveloped her. Even after the vampire under her had tuned to dust, Buffy continued her attack on the ground, relentlessly driving the stake into the spot where the vampire had been. She could feel the tears go down her cheek with each plunge, until she found herself curled on the ground, crying over the dust of the demon who had killed her best friend. To anyone else, her curled, shaking figure would resemble the prostration of a devout believer, but the screaming thoughts in Buffy's head were far from appreciative of the Gods.

"Aaagh… Buff, you okay?" she heard Xander groan from where he'd fallen, his voice barely making through the turmoil in her mind as a muffled whisper. With a start, she quickly collected herself from the ground, making her way to Willow as she fought to silence her own mind. No, there were more important things than her own pain right now; there was Xander. She didn't want to imagine what would happen if he saw her like that, splayed on the ground like a used toy. She couldn't. Buffy straightened the other girl into her arms, her tears thankfully blurring her vision as her eyes fixed on the bite worn on the redhead's neck. The bite Buffy had let happen... If she had only been a second quicker…

"Oh god." She heard a whisper, "Oh. GOD." Xander ran towards the blonde once she'd come into view, kneeling next to the cradled body. "Will? Will?", Buffy let him grab the redhead by the shoulders and shake her roughly, watched him hope for a sign of life from his oldest friend. She didn't have the heart to tell him herself. She barely had the breath to tell him _anything_ through the sobs…

"No. No way, this can't be…" Xander's voice broke as he stopped shaking Willow, and he instead grabbed at her wrist, his breath catching as he felt the still pulse. Buffy jumped as he snatched Willow from her arms, laying her on the ground and doing CPR on her still body. "Come on Willow, COME ON!", he yelled as he continued his futile attempts at revival. Buffy couldn't stand to watch him after a few minutes, grabbing him firmly by the shoulder as he went in to breathe into her again.

"Xander…" was all she could whisper before her voice broke. An unexpected, grainy texture greeted her when she squeezed his shoulder, and the Slayer finally noticed the layer of vampire dust that was coating her hands and forehead, sticking to the sweat. For a second she felt disgusted that any part of that demon could be on her body – filled with the need to bathe in bleach and burn her skin off to rid herself of contact with the dust. Then the second passed, and in the one that followed she almost felt _good_. As if she was covered in the proof of her revenge; coated in the blood of her best friend's killer. And for that second it made her feel strong. In control; ridding her of the powerlessness that had filled her entire being. She let the Slayer take over and revel in the kill, and for an idle moment, she wondered whether the dust would turn into mud in conjunction with her sweat.

"NO!" The sudden throaty yell brought her out of the confines of her mind, and the feeling of strength and satisfaction were ripped away from her as quickly as they had been given. As her eyes refocused on the spot where her hand had lay, she stared at the flecks of wet dust that now stained the shoulder of Xander's shirt. She wondered if that stain would ever come out… "She's not- she can't be! She can't. WILLOW!" Xander dutifully continued his attempts to revive the body in his arms, tears racing down his face, and at this point Buffy knew not to stop him. At this point, she knew his actions were more out of the grief of powerlessness than genuine hope. This was his dust. And he needed to let it replace the aching emptiness for as long as it would. She wouldn't rob him of that.

Buffy grabbed her stake and stood up, wiping away at her forehead, and for once her mind was silent. She knew what to do. She had to be the strong one for him, and Dawn and… God, Tara. She had to bite back her sobs and gulp down her tears for their sake. She was the Slayer after all; death was her gift…

* * *

 **A/N** As far as what you can expect from this story, be ready for plenty of melodrama like that (probably). That's just how my writing style is, I like my wordy explorations of characters. Other than that, for the plot itself, there will be some delicious Vamp Willow action, and a story arc similar to Willow's canonical arc with magic in S7 (I might loosely follow _some_ conon S7 arcs involving First, but mostly this is a story where our characters and their emotions are the Big Bads...) As far as characters go I'll be focusing on Buffy, Willow and Tara for the most part, as they have some of the more interesting deep reactions to the plot imo. This is a Willow/Tara-centric fic, so keep that in mind. **Feel free to review, I'd love to hear your thoughts! I provide compensation in the form of sneak peaks to the upcoming chapter :)**


	2. Perfect

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* * *

 **:: Chapter 2** : Perfect **::**

* * *

There are many kinds of silence.

Tara remembered the good kind, like the one she and Willow had shared after their first night. Lost in each other's eyes, foreheads touching, lips meeting in lazy, loving kisses. Craving and reveling in each other's touch, feeling at home in each other's arms… The kind of silence that made you feel complete.

She also remembered the worst kind of silence. She remembered tearfully packing her clothes from their room, hearing Willow's soft sobs from elsewhere. Remembered each awkward, painful silence they shared the next handful of times they met, before Willow had faced her addiction. It was the kind of silence that swallowed you whole if you let it.

But this.

This was a silence that was as loud as screams.

While ears heard nothing, the minds of the Scoobies were far from quiet, as they lay despondently on their seats at the Magic Box. Tara could still feel Dawn's muffled sobs, though the teenager tried hard to hide them. She wanted nothing more than to her hug her at that moment, hold her close and ease her pain, but she knew if she moved a muscle she would no longer be in control of her own emotions. Her nose stung from crying, her eyes complained of tiredness, and yet still the silent tears came, relentless in announcing their presence.

Every few minutes Tara's mind would wander to her again. The way she smelled, the way she tasted, the feel of that perfect skin under hers, the texture of those lips against her own... Her mind would wander, and sobs would break free again, taking control of her body as she shook and whispered that name over and over in harmony with the tears. And then Buffy would come over to embrace her, caressing her hair softly, rocking her in her arms. Like clockwork, Xander would soon follow, his embrace tight and grounding where Buffy's was tender and soothing, and they would whisper to her in breaking voices. And at last, they would all let their silent tears be heard. Dawn would hold her hand through her sobs, seeking and giving comfort. Anya would whisper something about death being a horrible invention, and sniff back her tears.

And they would all cry. They would all mourn, seeking comfort in each other, while all being ill-equipped to provide any.

This time Tara got through about fifteen minutes without letting her mind wander; fifteen minutes of just tears, fifteen minutes of giving her vocal chords some much needed rest. Fifteen minutes of pushing back memories of the love of her life. Instead she thought of practicalities. Thought of what she would wear tomorrow, her classes, tests. Whether they had enough syrup in the kitchen for tomorrow's breakfast… How she planned on getting that nasty stain out of her favorite sweater… Anything but her. Goddess, please, anything but her…

Suddenly, she heard loud, sudden sobs. It was Anya, head in hands, sobbing for what felt like the first time that day. Tara felt a bit taken aback despite herself. She knew the demon was sad – she'd caught her unsuccessfully fighting tears many times that day – but was still surprised at the strong display of emotion. It seemed she wasn't the only one taken aback, as Xander could only stare at her for a few seconds before hesitantly putting a hand on her shoulder. The sobs desisted after a minute, thankfully before they could trigger similar reactions from the rest of the group, and Anya struggled to voice herself, "I just. I'll never… We'll never talk again, and I… It was nice talking to her. O-Or arguing, which was frankly far more likely. How-How can I ever argue with her again?" the girl babbled, struggling to maintain her some of her stoic persona, "I just… I just want to talk to her, and now we'll never…", the hint of a sad smile came to Tara's lips, remembering one of their more destructive arguments at the Magic Box that had inadvertently resulted in a complicated troll situation. That did not turn out to be a good idea, as she soon started to recall the way Willow had worn her hair that day, in short tight curls, and how much she adored those crimson locks on her lover…

Fifteen minutes – that was her best time yet.

* * *

Buffy had never thought she could tire of hugging her friends. But today, as she held Tara in a tight embrace for what felt like the tenth time in the last hour, she realized this was quickly turning into an exception. She would never tire of hugging her friends, no, but she felt utterly broken by having to wipe so many of their tears, and hold back most of her own. She was sick of feeling this way; empty, as if a part of her had been sucked away like the blood that had once coursed through Willow's veins. Sick of watching Tara break down over and over, whispering for her lover to come back to her in a desperate, broken voice that made them all want to die of the pain. Sick of wanting to go curl up somewhere no one could touch her, where no one could hear her. Somewhere she didn't have to be strong…

The light beep of a phone interrupted the accelerating downward spiral of her thoughts as Tara had begun to calm down. The jovial tune of the device made everyone cringe, a disturbing and all but mocking contrast to the stagnant atmosphere in the room, and as soon as she made sure the shivering girl in her arms would be ok, Buffy made to grab at it. The Slayer all but growled into the phone once she was out of earshot, the aggressive despair clawing at her soul finally having found an outlet. She didn't care who this was, didn't care if they had no way of knowing of the state she was in. She needed a monster to beat. Even after killing the actual monster responsible for this, which she had assumed would somehow help her cope, Buffy still had what felt like endless leftover anger and pain, with nothing to take it out on. And this person, God help them, would have to be the next monster she plummeted.

Her ears were only half listening to the unfamiliar, nervous voice at the other end, waiting for an opening to launch into her next tirade. In the back of her mind she came to the conclusion that she was speaking to a hospital nurse of some kind. A nervous, painfully polite nurse that seemed to be apologizing profusely, though whether or not this was just because of her own burst of anger was unclear. One thing that _was_ clear was that she really didn't really care to find out. Reddened eyes narrowed and a dry mouth opened in preparation for a final outburst, but before a sound could come out, Buffy found the tables had been turned on her with the utterance of just a single sentence. And it was now her eyes that were open wide, and her mouth wider.

The body was gone.

While the cordial voice on the other end continued to apologize profusely, advising her to hold off on funeral plans while simultaneously assuring her that this was sure to be a simple mix-up, Buffy's ears heard nothing but the one word.

 _Gone_. The word seemed so the familiar to her ears. She tested it in her mind again, struggling to understand what it could mean in this context. _Gone…_ The body – Willow – gone. _Gone?_ How… How could she be _gone_? Did she poof off into pixie dust? Walk out the door naked? _No. No, of course..._ It was all starting to make sense to her now, she was so stupid; it was obvious… _Of course_ Willow was gone, she was certain they'd covered that already when her heart had stopped. Right, Willow was gone. Obviously. How was that a new development? Willow was gone. Tara had been murmuring as much into her shoulder for the past hour. It was obvious. _But… that was Willow. And this was…_ The body. _The body_ was gone. The body wasn't meant to be gone, was it? That wasn't what bodies did. They didn't go places. Where would they go? Wasn't that the whole point of dying? Willow was gone, and without Willow her body _couldn't_ be gone. Shouldn't be gone. But it was.

Distracted by shock and tear-induced headaches, for the first few heartbeats it all just didn't make sense to Buffy Summers. She didn't want it to make sense. It couldn't make sense; she wouldn't let it. The universe couldn't be that cruel, could it? No, of course not, so it _didn't_ make sense. But of course to the Slayer deep insider her it had all been clear from the start. To the Slayer it was obvious. The blood running down Willow's chin, which they had assumed to be the result of her rekindled magicks; the smug look on the monster that was responsible; and now the call from the morgue about the body. It all made sense. It had always made sense. The Slayer had always had the answers, and all Buffy had needed to do was accept them. She could have done this earlier, let this new, malicious form of grief reopen the scabbing wounds of her heart slowly, but delicately. But it was too late for that now. Now the revelation – confirmation of what the Slayer had known, but Buffy had denied – came at her like a violent tear through her heart. It was a deep, jagged incision looking to kill, and Buffy felt her body jerk as if in response. The weakening of her knees and stinging of her nose made it alarmingly obvious how quickly she was nearing the limits of her composure...

Idly hanging up on the nurse in the middle of yet another apology, Buffy purposefully closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, which ended up being more of a shuddering gasp instead. She took in another, and finally forced her feet to locomote across the Magic Box, promptly walking into the store's private bathroom, and dry heaving whatever still remained in her emptied stomach. She was unpleasantly surprised to find that there still quite a bit left for her to regurgitate, but she supposed that her body would somehow always find something to vomit at a time like this, just like Tara's tears seemed to continue to form out of nothingness, long after they should have run out.

It took several more heaves, most of them fruitful, before Buffy finally found herself in control of her body once more. She sluggishly cleaned herself up, and mindlessly stared into the mirror for a few long moments, before her mind made the connection between mirror and reflection, and from reflection to Willow. She took in another shaky breath, and steeled herself to face her friends once more.

She was going to wait; she had to wait. She had to give them what she had robbed herself: a slow, careful unraveling of the truth. She could afford this much at least. It had to be delicate; it had to be perfect. For Dawn. For Tara… _God, Tara._ Her heart ached once again thinking of the broken girl. She knew Xander would understand, at least. It would hurt, but he had seen this before with Jesse; he would understand that this Willow wasn't _their_ Willow. She almost trusted Dawn with as much as well. After her brief meddling with resurrection, she knew her sister was starting to learn to accept loss. But Tara... She wasn't sure what remained of Tara now, if there was still something left to break. But she knew how easy it would be to just slip into delusion; to trust and hope that Willow was still there. That somewhere behind unfamiliar yellow eyes, she was still alive. And Buffy had to be the one to ground her, to bring her down from floating fantasies and remind her of the ugly truth, hold her as she rebroke what had just been mended by delusion and hope. That's why... it all had to be perfect.

But as the door to the bathroom clicked shut behind her, and she turned back to the table with carefully guarded eyes, a final piece clicked into place for the Slayer. She tore her eyes from her friends' huddled forms as she approached them, finally realizing the true gravity of their situation. And for the second time that night, Buffy found herself on the wrong end of tables being turned.

What had once been about grief and perfection, was now solely about danger and survival. They were at the Magic Box... She'd known that, of course. But they were at _the_ _Magic Box_. She stared at the broken faces of her friends – her family – just barely hanging on by a thread. They were at the Magic Box... At a time when the one person who could break them even further could easily enter the Magic Box. Was probably headed for the Magic Box. Would be expecting them at the Magic Box.

They said that family blood always tasted the sweetest…

"Tara?" Buffy's own voice sounded alien to her, coming out as a garbled mess. She desperately cleared her throat and tried again, avoiding her friends' inquisitive glances. "Tara," she whispered softly this time, eliciting a slight head turn from the witch, "can-can you… disinvite a public place?" It was taking every bit of strength in her to get the words out, pausing here and there to fight back the incessant waves of nausea. Too soon. It was all still too soon... God, she needed more time. Time to just _breathe_.

"Buffy," Xander warned in an unusual tone of solemn anger, unable to understand how she could possibly be thinking of _work_ at a time like this, "for God's sake-"

She shut him up with a single glare, begging him not to question, just answer. She moved that same look, now much softer, to Tara, who had now straightened up to turn to her fully. The brunette softly asked her to repeat herself, a light stutter reappearing in her voice for a moment as she attempted to dry the ever-present tear tracks along her cheeks. "Can you disinvite a…" Buffy repeated with a gulp, her grip on the table so tight she feared she would break a chunk off, "a… _vampire_ from a public place?" She was sure she already knew the answer; utterly sure. But God, she needed this. She needed to ask, needed a second to calm; to strengthen; to ready. _Just a second, that's all I need_ , she told herself. Just a second, to realize she'd have to look at the face she had so recently cradled in her arms, so recently sobbed for, and kill it all over again. Just a second, to steel herself for seeing her again, this time brewing with the inhumane malice that came with losing humanity – the mere thought bringing back memories of Angelus. But she knew, if she separated sentiment from slayer, she knew…

They didn't _have_ a second.

"We need to get out," Buffy exclaimed after hearing Tara's expected answer, promptly ushering them to rise from her seats, her voice firm and authoritative. This was what she needed, she decided. Separate the emotion from the duty, the personal from the professional. A vampire was coming after them, the Magic Box being the biggest target as the only place it could actually enter. A vampire that had control over them, a vampire that Buffy knew she couldn't dust in front of the people that once loved…it. Alone, she could do it. Alone, she could close her mind's eye and ignore the grays in her life. Alone, she could look Willow in the eyes – like she had looked Angel in the eyes – and watch the life leave her face once again. Alone, she had no choice but to do it. But here, she felt like she would sooner collapse in sobs. "I'm serious, guys. We need to leave," Buffy repeated stiffly, watching the surprised but concerned looks on her friends and shooting them all a desperate one in return, "NOW!"

The shout did the job of startling Tara into attention, and Buffy's attempts at steeling herself softened as she saw the wince her yell had produced from the shaken girl. Unbeknownst to her, the shout had also done well to mask another sound that would otherwise have resonated in the shop – a distant bell ringing for the shortest second. After a last moment of confused, grief-stricken hesitation, everyone obediently started to stand up at her command, preparing to head out under the Slayer's orders. Buffy hurriedly grabbed a crossbow from a nearby weapon stash before aggressively pointing at the back doors as the venue for their retreat.

"Hey now… What's the hurry all about?" And just like that, perfect became unaffordable.

For a second, it felt like the very air around them stood still, the molecules frozen in shock. Five separate sets of lungs held breath in unity, some eyes clamped shut while others widened in either pain, shock, or both. The sound of calm footsteps echoed from the entrance of the Magic Box, each tip-tap of boots a fresh stab to Buffy's heart. Everything in the world stood still as a woman strikingly resembling Willow came into clear view, her body still donning the clothes she had worn in death. _No_ , Buffy reminded herself, hand clasping tighter against her crossbow, _Clothes_ _ **Willow**_ _had worn. This is not Willow. This is NOT Willow._

She smiled happily – smiled Willow-ly – except there was an unnoticed twist to her smile. A hint of amusement hiding behind the familiar expression. Dangerous, dark amusement, buried well under familiar smiles and casual tones. "I though you guys'd be excited to see me?" she continued calmly, like she'd just arrived from a long day of classes, a stretch of vacation abroad, or just any old day. Like she'd just been alive; like she was still alive. Buffy felt like the force of her clenched teeth could break her jaw. She waited for a smirk of cruelty to appear on Willow's features, waited for her to break everyone's heart like Angelus had once broken hers. Waited for maliciousness and evil and everything she expected from this stranger in a friend's body. Anything that would give her the strength to see that face disappear into nothingness. But God… God she was just so… _Willow_.

"Ok, everyone," She was amazed that words could still escape her lips, amazed that her knees were still holding her weight, as her eyes rested on the trail of blood that still covered a side of Willow's neck, seeping into her clothes, "That… _is not_ … Willow." She managed, knowing she convinced no one – not even herself – but also knowing that it had to be said. For the sake of their sanity, it had to be said.

"Aw, come on, Buff…" Willow complained as their eyes met, Willow-smile still in place. Buffy had to lean on a nearby shelf to keep herself stable as the familiar eyes met hers. The vampire noticed the weakness, and for a second Buffy thought she would get pounced right there, but instead was just welcomed with a soft sigh, "Yeah, I'm kind of a mess I have to admit," Willow rolled her eyes in annoyance, ruffling through her hair and battling some of the light tangles that had appeared, "But you have to cut me some slack here, I can't really judge anymore! Mirrors, you know?"

"Goddess…" Buffy heard a whisper, though it was more of a mixture between a wince and a sob, "Oh Goddess, no…" She turned to her left to see that Tara had lost her battle against her knees, landing on the floor with her hands covering her mouth and fresh tears streaking her face. "Willow…" It was more so a horrified cry to a dead lover than a greeting to an undead one, but nevertheless, Willow's eyes turned to her next. Buffy could just see Tara shattering under her gaze, and willed her legs to go to her, shield her from these fresh wounds of grief, but her body defied her.

"Hi baby..." the purred reply came.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for ending it there, but there's honestly no better place to cut off in this whole collection of scenes. And it would be _far_ too long if I just kept going...

I have to admit I have some mixed feelings about this chapter, almost entirely because of the phone scene. That whole bit up to the bathroom was unbelievably hard to write (not in the emotional sense), and I'm not fully happy with what I got, but I like it enough none the less. Then there's the _Gone_ paragraph, which I'm not sure if it perfectly portrays the tonal shift and frantic, scatter-brained denial I was going for, or if it just comes off as _horribly_ amateur and confusing writing. And a bunch of other nit-picks I can make (like a million run-on sentences I probably didn't catch)... Ah, well! It's usually my unstoppable inner critic that always drives me away from finishing projects, so I hope you can just take the occasional awkward transition/paragraph with a grain of salt and just go with it.

I'm obviously taking some liberties with the Buffyverse here and there, with the morgue/hospital call and Willow seeming to rise after a mere few hours. I could try to come up with conon explanations for both, but it's really too trivial to be bother with in-story, so just feel free to come up with your own rationalizations. Also, I'm aware I just spent half of that chapter trapped in Buffy's head with no dialogue to speak of, but God I really can't help it. _It's fun in there!_

 **As always, a review is greatly appreciated! Even a couple of words help keep me motivated, and get you a little sneak peak. It's a win-win!**


	3. Forget

**A/N:** My version of "Vamp Willow" is a bit different from canon, which is quite believable as S2/3 Willow (which is probably when she was turned in the Wishverse) is also quite a bit different from S6 Willow. Also, I should mention that Willow doesn't have any significant hypnosis abilities (to make thralls), which you might have otherwise assumed because of everyone's reactions to looking her in the eye. But really, like Buffy said in _Perfect_ , Willow just has power over them - emotional power. She doesn't really need much else to make them tremble...

The two POVs in this chapter have some overlap timeline-wise. I don't know how I feel about that, because I don't know how it feels as a reader (believe me, it's there for a reason though). Just wanted to let you know to avoid any confusion within the chapter.

* * *

 **:: Chapter 3** : Forget **::**

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 _"_ _Willow…" It was more so a horrified cry to a dead lover than a greeting to an undead one, but nevertheless, Willow's eyes turned to her next._ _  
_

Tara's mind was capable of only one thought as she stared into the bright eyes of her lover. After spending hours retracing Willow's features in her mind, desperately clinging to and treasuring everything she could still remember, she now realized that not even her most accurate fantasies could hold a candle to the real Willow. She was quite certain the redhead was more beautiful than any mind had the capability to imagine…

For a few moments the onslaught of emotion – a crushing mixture of fear, anger, and pain – that had enveloped her just seconds earlier felt like a distant dream. The entirety of the past evening felt like a dream, and the only emotion that filled her now was a sensation of overwhelming relief and contentment. Tired of crying, tired of hurting, she could hardly put up a fight as she slipped further into the allure of her girlfriend's eyes. It was all just a dream… and only thing that felt real – that she convinced herself as real – was the gorgeous, smiling woman that now stood in front of her. Lips that she had expected to live the remainder of her life without feeling again – now curled up into a little smile that warmed her heart, erasing what felt like centuries of pain. Eyes that she couldn't for the life of her turn away from, even as she felt her vision slowly blurring.

When said blurring soon turned Willow's striking features into a mush of wavy lines, Tara blinked furiously to force the tears to leave her eyelids, desperate to meet the eyes she had fallen in love with years ago. She felt the blur being replaced by the feel of wetness on her cheeks. Oh, so that's what it was. She was crying... Why had she been crying? She couldn't remember. Her eyebrows furrowed as she realized that was probably something she ought to remember, but she urged the thought to disappear when it drew her mind away from taking in the beauty in front of her. Perhaps it had been joy? But that wouldn't explain the trembling hand that still clasped at her mouth, as if readying to muffle sobs that hadn't yet arrived. And sobs were hardly ever the sign of joy…

"Hi Baby…" Her thoughts vanished once more as she heard the redhead call to her in so loving a voice. She felt a surprising sob erupt from deep inside her in response. So she _was_ sobbing… out of sadness? But why? Her mind screamed of happiness, so why were her lips not capable of returning her lover's smile? "Hey, hey… Don't cry, now." Willow continued reassuringly, her smile faltering and brows furrowing in what looked like concern. It was all Tara could do at that moment not to run into her arms and kiss the smile back onto her face. She had always been able to do that. To erase the sadness or fear from Willow's face with just a tender kiss or a loving touch, and she was more than thankful for that ability. The sight of Willow's smile was a drug Tara never wanted to run short of. An addiction she was utterly content to lose herself in. "I'm sorry for giving you a scare there…" Willow continued as she took a small step closer. But she wasn't scared, Tara wanted to reassure her, she could never be scared with Willow; scared _of_ Willow. Not anymore. She was safe here…

"Tara, listen to me," she heard a distant sound warn her. Who was that? She had nearly forgotten there were others in the room, and was almost embarrassed that she'd been lost in her own world for so long, entranced so completely by her lover. It took only a split second of losing Willow from her sight– the smallest attempt at a glance towards the new voice – for her to abandon her plans and draw herself back into the world of two she and Willow occupied. She didn't quite care who it was she was ignoring. Even a second of looking away from Willow brought with it an ache in her heart she never wanted to feel again. They could wait, whoever they were. They could wait until she had taken in every inch of the lover in front of her, memorized every strand of hair, every inch of skin. Everything else could wait…

"Tara, please, I need you to look at me," the voice tried once again. She didn't understand why it would keep interrupting her, couldn't it see how tired she was? All she wanted was to let her mind rest. A moment of respite to regain the strength that had been sucked away from her after the nightmare of the last few hours. Surely she could be allowed that much? She was safe here, with Willow. How much could it hurt to let her rest?

But the voice that had been calling her apparently disagreed, and quite violently. She felt quick movement somewhere far to her right, followed by the narrowing of the emerald eyes that had so far claimed all of her attention, and the hardening of the soft smile. Willow's gaze suddenly left her, leaving her feeling cold and empty, as if ripped from the embrace of a warm shower that she had just barely begun to enjoy. A steely gaze shifted to the offending party, and the smile returned, albeit forced.

 _No,_ Tara called out desperately to the eyes that had left her own, but all that escaped her lips was a whimper of longing, _come back to me…_ Her rest had been broken so suddenly, so completely, that she found she barely had the strength to think. _I need you… I can't rest without you._ That much had always been true, she could never quite relax the same without Willow in her arms, she'd learned that much in their strained time apart. She had never known good sleep before Willow, always looking behind her shoulder, keeping her ears perked for the heavy footsteps of her father. But Willow had always been able to ground her so effortlessly, gently tug her out of nightmares that still sometimes plagued her consciousness, make her feel a warmth she had never known she was missing. She yearned for that now, to be safely cocooned in soft bedsheets, gentle arms, and warm skin; to let this latest nightmare wash away like a distant memory… _Goddess, I'm so tired, Willow..._

But why? Why did she feel so broken? The sobs, the shaking, she had never quite found the answer. She knew there was something she was forgetting, or something she was trying to forget… What was it?

"Buffy, you know that's not a really nice thing to do, right?" Willow's voice broke the silence of her mind yet again. _Buffy…_ Buffy was here. Buffy had been the one calling her? Some distant part of her mind stood in attention at the realization, knowing that if Buffy had been warning her, there was something to be warned of. And that meant that Tara needed to collect herself, collect her magicks. Protect Willow. She _had_ to. She couldn't lose her again… _Again?_ Her mind idly questioned at the strange phrasing. When had she lost her before?

Tara finally found the strength to look around as she heard what seemed to be Buffy's voice hissing pointedly at someone. She turned stiffly towards the slayer, taking in her surroundings for the first time in the last few minutes. In the distance, she could hear soft gasps that sounded like Dawn's, the sound she made when trying desperately to recover from sobbing. She had heard that sound enough in the last few hours to recognize it from a mile away. The last few hours… was that what she had been forgetting? Had it not been a dream, then? Dawn had been crying, and _she_ had been crying. And Buffy… Tara turned to look at the Slayer now, noticing eyes and skin that were far from their normal hue. Yes, Buffy had been more than just crying… The cogs in Tara's head began to turn faster now, no longer brought to stillness by the sight of her lover.

So it wasn't a dream? Willow was… gone? Or _had been_ gone. She was here now, surely. Tara stole a quick glance at the redhead once more, as if to assure herself that she was still real. Right, Willow was here now. It was going to be ok. She was here. Tara almost wanted to laugh as the full meaning behind Willow's earlier apologies came to her. Goddess, she had a right to be sorry, she _had_ scared her after all…

She let the memories slowly wash over her, not enjoying the experience of recalling the hours she had spent lost in her own emptiness and despair. But it hadn't been a dream, so she needed to remember. Remember, and move on. Because Willow was here… And it was all going to be fine.

"Xander," Buffy called, and Tara realized she had once again tuned out the world around her, this time lost only in herself and not in the redhead beauty that now wore an amused smile, "get everyone else out of here. Don't stop, just _go_." Tara recognized the strain in Buffy's voice, and regained the sense of danger that had briefly alluded her. She remembered. They'd been running from something…or someone? A vampire, Tara guessed, judging from Buffy's earlier curiosity about disinviting spells. More likely than not it was a _cadre_ of vampires, either stupid enough to take on a Slayer or impassioned enough to not care. _But are they really stupid?_ Tara wondered, recalling the earlier state of her best friend, when she was just barely able to stand, clutching a crossbow in shaking hands. _When Buffy's so afraid of them…are they really that stupid to come for us?_ She felt a hand tug at her to help her rise, and let herself be brought to her feet. She needed to be standing after all, they were probably in for a fight. She needed to protect the ones she loved.

Her eyes met Willow's once again, waiting for her to join their side. But the redhead just grinned, as if she was enjoying the complexities of a play unfold in front of her. Her gaze rose to lie a bit to Tara's left, and she felt the hand that had been tugging at her shoulder freeze immediately, and heard a soft sigh that almost merged into a sob. "Xander," Willow called in a sing-song voice, before continuing more casually, "I don't really think Tara wants to go right now…"

"And I don't think that's your decision to make," came the growl through gritted teeth. Tara didn't quite understand why Buffy was arguing this way with her friend. She glanced around to take in the faces around her. Was she the only one who was relieved Willow was here? That she was alive? No, she realized with a sigh of relief, no she wasn't. Anya for one seemed as happy as could be, though she was trying her best to wear a mask of nonchalance to match the ones around her. But Xander, and Dawnie… Goddess, Dawnie looked awful. Shaking, sniveling, a hand clasping a small wooden cross so tightly she was sure it would leave its mark on her palm. What was it that had them so…

And then her eyes turned down to the crossbow in Xander's hand. Also shaking, but aiming true at the one person standing in front of them. She hastily turned to Buffy to find that hers held the same target. And Dawnie's cross…

All aimed at Willow.

"No, you're right, Buffy," Willow continued. Or was it Willow? Had it ever been Willow? Red bite; grinning teeth; fake death… Was it Willow? Was _it_ , Willow? With a shaky gasp, she finally familiarized herself with the emotions that had stunned her so deeply before. Fear. Anger. Pain. _Goddess… give me strength._ She all but crumbled to the ground again when familiar emerald eyes met hers. "It's Tara's choice," Willow smiled. Or…the creature wearing Willow's face – sharing Willow's memories – smiled. The husk of Willow, smiled. She knew this, Tara reminded herself. But it was so hard. She couldn't trust herself to remember, she had already forgotten once. And she already wanted to forget again…

"Tara," her lover's whisper implored her with a gentle voice, eyes and smile not betraying any loss of humanity. Tara found herself lost in that gaze again, and this time as tears began to blur her vision, she was almost thankful for their presence. "Tara… do you want to leave?" The whispers of hopefulness and desperation in that voice, so out of place accompanying Willow's confident visage, successfully sparked the memories they were meant to trigger.

Tara suddenly found herself back at her 20th birthday, now seeming like it was eons ago. She recalled those words, then uttered to her in a desperate plea for trust from her lover. A plea to trust that Willow would stay with the brunette even if she was a demon. To trust that what they had together had been real. That nothing – _nothing_ – could get in the way without them putting up a fight. Tara had believed she was a monster, and Willow had been ready to stay, ready to fight…

And before she knew quite what she was doing, Tara found herself free of the loosening grip on her shoulder. Taking a single, sure step towards the demon that stood smiling before her.

She was ready to forget.

* * *

 _"Hi baby..." the purred reply came._

Buffy found her fingers clenching uncontrollably tight at her crossbow as she heard the gasping sob that had erupted from Tara, and for a second she feared her grip on the trigger would misfire her only bolt. She gritted her teeth tightly, hoping the physical ache could replace the emotional, and urged her body – not for the first time – to put aside the pangs of pain that still tore at her insides, and rush to shield the fallen witch from this monster. Tara needed her now. She needed the Slayer's strength to face the caricature of Willow that stood smiling in front of her, hiding carefully behind loving murmurs. No doubt reveling in the power it had over the witch, and preparing to surgically stab at the brunette's heart in the few ways it still remained unbroken. Buffy's mind traveled back to her first encounter with Angelus, to the pleasure he had received from seeing her pain... She needed to remind Tara not to listen. To _force_ her not to listen. To sow together whatever fragments she could find of that perfect moment she had been orchestrating just minutes ago…

But no matter what her mind ordered, her body still felt more like a pile of jello that had been sculpted into a Buffy-like shape, than the lithe intimidating form of a Slayer. As she leaned against a shelf to replace the lost strength in her knees, she resorted to the only muscles in her body that could still obey her…

"Tara, listen to me," Buffy urged, her voice coming out steady and calm where she felt anything but, "focus on my voice, okay?" She sighed as the brunette turned to her so minutely it looked more like a flinch, and hoped the flinch was a sign of a more purposeful turn. But Tara's form remained entranced with the figure of the redhead before her, shaking ever so slightly as barely audible whispers of her lover's name left her lips. "Tara, please…" She tried more forcefully, feeling some of her missing strength return as Willow took a series of steps towards them. The Slayer in her slowly replacing the emotions as the impending threat became more urgent by the second. "I need you to look at me. Turn away from her, sweetie." But the brunette refused to move, not showing the slightest response of even having heard her at all. And as Willow came ever closer, now reaching the bottom of the steps near the entrance, Buffy felt her options dwindling rapidly. She could see the others, Dawnie and Xander, already inching towards the exits, readying to flee even in their shocked states. And Anya had never been limited by human obstacles if she wanted to run away. But if Tara didn't move soon…

Buffy was staring at her arm held up in the air, crossbow aiming squarely for Willow's chest, before she was aware of having moved at all. Her aim was steady, and her mind occupied only of the need to protect. The pain was still there, as she knew it always would be. But the pain was bearable. The pain would fuel her. Willow was a thorn, pressing dangerously against her insides with each breath she took, each beat of her heart. And the pain would force her to take it out.

Her form stayed steady as green eyes now turned to bore into her own, and she felt strong for the first time in what felt like forever. _This isn't Willow_ , she repeated to herself, this time far more confident in the words she had always known to be true. This wasn't Willow. And Buffy wasn't going to wait for that to be proven to her anymore. She wasn't going to give this demon that power over her. She wouldn't let her heart be broken again. She wouldn't let her family be hurt…

"Buffy, you know that's not a really nice thing to do, right?" Willow murmured dejectedly, seemingly offended by the weapon that was threating to skewer her. But Buffy could see the steely anger that hid behind familiar green eyes…

"That's good," she answered in a low growl, "because being nice isn't really on the list of what I'm planning to do to you, Will," Her anger quelled ever so slightly into concern as she saw Tara finally return from her trance, looking around helplessly as if seeing her surroundings for the first time. What had Willow done to that girl…

"Woah, hey," Willow exclaimed defensively, no doubt surprised by the shift in the Slayer's tone. "what'd I do?" She lifted her hands up defensively, taking the smallest of steps back as she pleaded her case with wide, innocent eyes. Her form stiffened as she saw no reaction, and she tilted her head in thought, "Oh, right…" The smile that emerged surprised Buffy, and she saw a glint in emerald eyes that reflected only amusement and interest, and none of the fear she had been expecting. "You probably heard about the pit stop I made along the way, huh? Believe me, it was for the best…" Willow continued, her arms falling back down to her sides as she relaxed back into her previous state, appearing to have recovered from the crossbow that still held her as its target. Whether she was recovering from an act, or recovering in earnest, the Slayer had no way of knowing.

Buffy could sense the cogs turning in the demon's head, and her trigger finger twitched as Willow casually walked over to the front desk of the shop, fondling some jars that held an unidentifiable mush of entrails, "I couldn't really trust myself being on an empty stomach around you guys you know? Bloodlust just…"her hand traveled to a lonely pair of scissors that had no doubt been used to giftwrap some odd item, and Buffy felt her entire body tense, "complicates things…" Willow's nimble fingers grazed the blade of the scissors as she held them up reverently, seeming eerily lost in the feel of the metal in her hands. She turned back towards Buffy, still delicately fondling the scissors, and smiled innocently, "And I _really_ don't want anyone getting hurt... Well, give or take." She added with a shrug, gaze momentarily flickering towards the still-dazed form of Tara.

"Xander," she called, her body readying herself for combat. It was atypical for vamps to use weapons, especially ones that small, but her mind was already computing the possible openings Willow could abuse in a close-combat encounter. From the corner of her eyes she saw Xander look at her in attention, one hand clasped tightly at Dawn's forearm where he had been gently pulling her closer to the exit, and the other clutching a crossbow she could barely recall him grabbing for. That was good at least, he was armed. "Get everyone else out of here," she ordered, preparing herself to stall the vampire in case she attempted to stop their escape. "Don't stop, just _go_." She put every bit of urgency she could muster behind that one word, and relaxed minutely as she heard Anya drag an unresponsive Dawn towards a door, and saw Tara finally rise to her feet. She only hoped the witch would be able to avoid the redhead's gaze for a few moments longer…

"Xander," came a playful voice, accompanied by a grin that now seemed the opposite of innocent. The carpenter sizably shrunk under Willow's gaze, and the grin broadened in response, accompanied by a new glint in emerald eyes. She was _enjoying_ this… "I don't really think Tara wants to go right now…"

"And I don't think that's your decision to make," Buffy growled back, growing ever angrier at the games the vampire was playing with her friends' minds. The games she had been playing with _Buffy's_ mind, even before she had spoken a word, just by making her very her existence be known. She silently urged Xander to break away from the gaze and run, so that she could finally put aside the Buffy that loved Willow, and focus only on the Slayer that killed vampires. But all he did was slowly, purposefully, raise his crossbow into the air, fighting back the incessant trembles of his hand that threatened to make him drop the weapon. His cheeks were lined with fresh tears, and she could hear a soft moan of pain coming from within his chest. That was not a good idea… He needed to _run_.

"No, you're right, Buffy," Willow interjected before she could remind Xander of her earlier instructions. The vampire was surprisingly calm for having two arrows ready to pierce her heart, but Buffy couldn't be sure if it was because she had a card up her sleeve, or if she had truly just lost it. She heard a desperate gasp that she recognized as Tara's; a sound that resembled the gulping for air after resurfacing from the depths of an ocean. Surely, the two witches – or more accurately, the witch and vampire – were once again engaged in locked gazes. Buffy thought she saw something new in Tara's eyes this time, a hint of lucidity that had so far been absent. It brought with it a slim hope in Buffy that the witch could finally see Willow for what she was, and a crushing sadness about the same thing. "It's Tara's choice," Willow smiled at the brunette witch, and Buffy saw Xander's grip on her tighten, as if her knees were threatening to fail her again. And just like that the hope vanished…

Buffy felt no need to argue with Willow. She could see it was too late now, and there was hardly a choice left to be made. Only a desperate prayer that Tara could one day forget the sight of her lover vanishing into dust…

She met Xander's eyes with a meaningful look as Willow continued to call out to Tara, and saw his chest heave with the intake of a deep breath, and his hand steady in response, even as the tears threatened to cloud his vision. That was all the answer she needed that her message had been heard. "Tara… do you want to leave?" The tone of Willow's voice struck her as odd, the vulnerability clashing so heavily with the confidence in her stance, and the scissors still loosely stroked by her hands. She felt the tingle of a memory begin to resurface, but pushed it down immediately. No, she wasn't going to let Willow make this any harder than it already was. She turned fully to the vampire in front of her, putting to use the skill she had mastered so well over the years as she readied her aim. Pushing down the Buffy Summers that had spent the better of six years by Willow's side. The girl that had cried in her best friend's lap as she struggled to breathe after heartbreak, and caught the witch in her arms as she recovered from her own. There was no room for her now, this was the Slayer's playground…

But her itching trigger finger retreated as she heard an unexpected gasp from her closest male friend, and she turned to take in a sight that effortlessly overturned any progress she had made to rid herself of Buffy Summers…

"That's my girl…" Willow grinned as her lover slowly walked towards her. Buffy's heart skipped a beat, and then doubled its pace. Tara was… enthralled? Is that what was happening? No, she was all there. Buffy had _seen_ her there. This was Tara. But God… God she needed to stop… If she had any hope of recovering from the loss of her lover, she needed to stop. She needed to _be_ stopped.

There was no time to do this right. Buffy Summers had to pull the trigger.

"She's not your girl," Buffy growled back, urging Xander to recover from his shock before Tara got any closer to the redheaded demon, "She's not your _anything_."

In a flash, two bolts flew across the Magic Box, one just barely missing the side of Tara's head. A surprised gasp echoed in the room, now eerily silent. Buffy calmly watched the arrows reach their mark, one imperfectly aimed for Willow's eye, and the other… landing squarely at her heart.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm not really planning on keeping with this insane time-twisting style of spending paragraphs talking about a single moment/bit of dialogue (aka Tara's POV). I know how tiring it can get to read... There's just so much shock happening right now that everyone's head is just a jumbled mess of emotions that I can't help but explore. Also not planning on having overlapping POVs again unless needed. It was necessary here though, Tara wasn't really _all there_ in her encounter. Originally, Buffy's half of this chapter was meant to go on far longer that it has, which would make the overlap more meaningful/bearable, but if I ended it where it was meant to be ended, this would have been a 10k chapter... On the plus side, I'm already well on my way to finishing the next chapter!

Tara was honestly quite exhausting to write. (Her part was initially also planned to go on for longer, but that would've just been too much, and the new dialogue doesn't support it anymore.) I know she comes off as kind of... weak here. But she's just at that point right now. Keeping in mind Willow's response to the canon _Seeing Red_ , it's not that hard to imagine things going this way in the initial heated hours of grieving. Replace anger and vengeance with hope and exhaustion...

Also it's insanely tough to deal with Xander, Dawn and Anya on top of everything else, especially with the current narrators, so sorry there hasn't been much of a chance to actually explore their full reactions... I could probably have shoved a hint of it in somewhere in _Perfect_ but too little too late I suppose. Their feelings _will_ be made very clear though, don't you worry.

 **Feel free to review, I'd love the feedback no matter how small. Also if anyone's interested in some low-key beta-ing (mostly typo stuff but maybe the occasional other thing) PM me, please! A super casual noncommittal type thing is fine. I'm just getting a bit tired of re-reading chapters ten times over before feeling ready to post...**


	4. Pacifist

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 **:: Chapter 4** : Pacifist **::**

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Buffy felt the strength that she had finally found just moments ago slowly slip from her grasp as she took in the sight before her. Her body had been bracing itself for the sharp pang of pain that was bound to come as she watched Willow crumble to dust. She had been ready. For her own pain, and for everyone else's. But this… she had not been prepared for.

"H-How…" She heard a strained whisper with hints of Xander's voice, and the slow, hesitant retreat of footsteps that sounded like Tara's. She couldn't quite be sure who it was though, every sound that met her ears felt like it was reaching her from miles away. The crossbow in her hand began to shake again for the first time since it had been raised, still holding its aim at her last target. A target who, instead of being a pile of dust, stood calmly before her, seemingly unconcerned with the two arrows that had stopped just short of touching her skin.

"You know…" Willow sighed with furrowed brows, her features no longer adorned by a smile for the first time in their encounter. For a second she studied the bolt that had been aimed for her eye, casually picking it up from where it was floating mere inches from her face, a proximity she was clearly very unhappy with, "I can't help feeling a little unwelcomed here, Buff..." Bolt held delicately in hand, with the other still hovering above her chest, she turned towards Buffy. Green eyes were now slowly being painted in a dangerous yellow, her steely gaze now turning sharp with displeasure, "I want to cut you some slack here, believe me… But there really aren't a whole lot of ways for me to interpret my best friend trying to kill me."

Buffy found herself incapable of returned the jab, incapable of a single sound. She was starting to quickly realize that she didn't quite know _what_ was going on anymore. And that, maybe, she never had. She felt herself shiver as she recounted their encounter in a new light. How pathetic the Slayer must have looked to the demon before her, reveling in the illusion of strength, the illusion of power. She had never had power. Never had power or control or any semblance of an upper hand. She only ever had what the demon wanted her to believe she had… The demon wearing Willow's face, using Willow's voice… wielding Willow's magicks.

Willow, having had her fill of the Slayer's unresponsive form, turned her gaze to meet Xander's, wearing an annoyed frown that was now leaning dangerously close to being angry. "Don't you know it's rude to go for the eye, Xand?" She asked in a light voice that betrayed none of the emotions she so clearly wore on her frowning face. Buffy jumped back into attention as she heard a sudden yelp from the direction of friends, the reintroduction of danger doing well to shake her out of her intimidated stance. "See? Not too fun, is it?" Willow continued, as Buffy noticed the bolt having vanished from her hands, and turned to see it now located alarmingly close to Xander's own eye.

Intimidation vanished and fear returned. Buffy now became all too aware of the scissors still held lightly in Willow's hand, and the second bolt still effortlessly floating in place. Both, once laughable excuses of weapons in a vampire's hand, now transforming into lethal threats when given to a crazed witch. She heard Xander wince as the bolt held in front of his eye no doubt crept closer, and watched Willow's frown slowly dissipating as she enjoyed the teasing of pain. Fear now gave way to anger…

"If you so much as touch them…" the Slayer warned with a growl, letting the useless crossbow fall to her side as she prepared to engage the unpredictable witch. She didn't care who had the power. She didn't care if this uncaring, unfeeling caricature of Willow truly terrified her, now paired with the undeniable strength of the magicks. And dark magicks at that, the Slayer could tell. She could feel the electricity in the air, the hair standing up on her arms, as she inched closer to the redhead.

Willow chuckled lightly at the threat, amused by the return of the Slayer's aggressive stance. "You'll what, Buffy?" She challenged with a grin, finally picking up the second crossbow bolt that had targeted her heart, and waving it around mockingly, "Turn the air around me into a pincushion? Run all 'Slayer-mode' into the range of my magicks?" Her face morphed into a taunting expression of seriousness as she said 'Slayer-mode', and the grin resurfaced as she carelessly snapped the bolt in her hands like a twig and let it fall to the ground, discarding one of her physical weapons in a show of audacity.

Unfazed, the vampire took a series of steps forward, now standing just a few dangerous strides away from a shocked and frozen Tara, but paying no mind to anyone but the Slayer. "Come on, Buffy… You know better than that," Her grin had disappeared as she silently dared Buffy to prove her wrong, and her tone had shifted from mocking to earnest, with more than a hint of disappointment, "You got nothing…" Buffy felt the tenseness of her shoulders, the readiness for battle, loosen as she considered those words. There was truth to them, there was no doubt. Truth that made her body wish for a reprieve, almost wanting to accept defeat as it was becoming so exponentially harder to fight. But Willow was wrong. Buffy still have one thing to give. One thing to lose, if it came to it. And she was more than willing to throw away her life if it meant taking the dark witch down with her.

"And besides!" Willow suddenly exclaimed, dissipating the tension in the air just as fast as she had introduced it, as she took a few casual steps back to her earlier position. The friendly Willow-smile returned, which when combined with eyes that had now faded back to green, caused an emotional lump to form in Buffy's throat, even when her heart had hardened too much to have a response. "I'm not here to kill you, really. That's not nearly as fun, you know," Willow's voice was soft, pleading, and more than a little desperate as she implored the Slayer to listen to her, as if trying to reason with a stubborn child and dreading the sternness that would come if he didn't listen. "I'm just here to talk…" Willow continued with an innocent shrug, and Buffy frowned as she felt the words resonate throughout the room, accompanied by the slightest of hope and lessening of fear among the other Scoobies. Even Xander, who still had an arrow threatening to rob him of depth perception, albeit now at a less scary distance, was looking at the demon tenderly with the smallest amount of recognition. "Well, talk… and take," Willow whispered as an afterthought, and Buffy had no doubt that her eyes now rested on the other witch, who now seemed utterly lost again after briefly regaining her rationality.

"Sorry, I'm not really big on the whole trusting of murderers," Buffy answered stiffy, her stance unrelenting as she moved closer, more as a show of strength than a challenge. A hint of a frown appeared on Willow's face at that word, and she scrunched her nose in distaste, "and _especially_ not those that threaten my friends," She growled in warning. This demon couldn't get to her anymore; hadn't been able to get to her ever since Buffy first lifted her crossbow. She was sure Willow knew that by now. But she was also sure this was more about collecting allies than pursuing Buffy. Weaker allies that _wanted_ to be collected… Allies that could in turn weaken her.

"Hey! I'm not _threatening_ anyone," Willow argued, seemingly offended by the accusation, "But, you know, can't really say the same for you Miss Death-To-All-Undead. Even though, you know, can't really _die_ when you're undead, but…" Willow trailed off distractedly and then shook her head, as if trying to drown the urge to continue with her babble. "You know what I mean," She finished once she had recovered, looking more than a little peeved, "Did ya forget the whole crossbow-in-my-face thing?"

A distant squeak of "Nope," answered the redhead before Buffy could, the tone clashing heavily with the tenseness that had been reintroduced to the room. The Slayer turned to see Xander's reddening face, awkwardly leaning back as the arrow continued to probe closer to his face, seeming to be involuntarily egged on by the redhead's anger, "Still very, _very_ vivid in my memory, Will…" He continued, almost on the verge of falling while he leant back when the bolt finally stopped its movements. "So, uh…" He looked uncertainly at the demon that a part of him hoped still housed his friend, nervously keeping an eye at the arrow that was still far too close for comfort, "m-maybe we could hold off the reminder, if that's ok?"

"Oh… _that_ threat," Willow murmured under her breath, smiling sheepishly at the situation that had so obviously gotten out of hand, "Sorry Xand, that was just meant to be a joke, you know… Let me get that for you," As promised, the bolt slowly retreated from its alarming position in front of the carpenter's face, a move that was welcomed by a relieved release of breath, and twirled around in the air to sit perfectly back into his crossbow. Buffy almost would have found the move amusing, the willing forfeit of a weapon into the enemy's hands, if she hadn't known that it was nothing but a meaningless gesture to bribe trust from the man. The crossbow was useless, no matter how many bolts it held. It was worse than useless, even; it was still Willow's weapon, just held in Xander's hands. Which made Xander worse than useless. And even Buffy herself was on the verge of useless… No one could come close to scratching the vampire now, not without having even the slightest understanding of what she was capable of.

"There! Threats have been zero-ed," Willow smiled brightly, looking as though she'd just solved a complex hacking problem, "We okay now?" She looked at the Slayer expectantly for a few seconds, a hopeful twinkle in her eyes, before deflating slightly with a sigh when she was greeted by nothing but a steely gaze from the blonde. "Look, I get where you're coming from, ok?" She muttered in acceptance with the roll of her eyes, slightly pacing as her earlier excitement was slowly replaced by hints of anger and frustration, "Family blood; killing innocents; the whole 'evil' thing, yada yada. Doesn't really make for a very trusting image, I'll give you that…" The redhead suddenly settled in her pacing, turning towards the Slayer in so swift a motion that Buffy instinctively inched for the stake on her person. But Willow's face as she turned to her best friend showed no hints of aggression, only a look of sadness and defeat at her inability to make the Slayer listen to her. "But it's _bigger_ than that, Buffy." She all by shouted, her voice surprising Buffy in its desperation, "Don't you see that? Because I do…" Willows eyes did nothing to hide the disappointment that coated her words, or her raw desire to make the Slayer understand. The sight cut through the hardness of Buffy's heart, and for a second – just for a second – she listened.

"I see it…" Willow trailed, her eyes gazing dreamily somewhere above them, "I see it, and it's _beautiful_." She sighed, closing her eyes as the frustration on her face dissolved to nothingness, and was replaced by a light smile. Buffy was still listening, and the listening made her wonder if Angelus had truly been an accurate comparison to this Willow, or if Drusilla would have been more apt instead... "I know you don't, but I finally get it now." Willow whispered as she turned back to her, the smile on her face losing some of its innocence, and slowly curling into an excited smirk. "It's not about the violence…" Buffy watched, transfixed, as the emerald in her eyes danced with trails of yellow, glinting in excitement, "Or the blood, or the screams… Though, those are always nice too."

The demon raised a hand in the air, palms facing the Scoobies, and Buffy finally reached to pull at her stake in response. But her hands weren't nearly fast enough for the witch, and just as she felt whispers of wood touching her fingers, the intense waves of dark magicks rushed through her, making her intensely nauseous. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Dawn collapse, and wondered why in the world her sister was still in the room when Anya had been pulling her to the door what felt like hours ago. She saw Xander bend over, nearly ready to retch himself, and Tara, white as a ghost. A single object flew to the other side of the Magic Box faster than human hands could throw, landing perfectly into Willow's outstretched hand. Buffy desperately fought the nausea and the accompanying dizziness to face the witch, turning just in time to feel another bout of magicks, this time originating from the book clasped in the redhead's hand. She watched in horror as the physical embodiment of magicks seeped through the book, twirling its way around Willow's arms and planting itself snugly in her head. The witch's eyes burned through her soul as they darkened into nothingness.

"It's about the power."

* * *

Anya felt the shocks of magicks just as well as the others, but being a vengeance demon, her experience was far less unpleasant. She also knew exactly what Willow was doing, recognizing the book in her hands as one of the stronger dark magicks books held 'safely' in the upper section of the Magic Box. ' _Safe' never really takes evil witch vampires into account though… I'll have to give insurance a call._ She sighed as she wondered what the cost of replacing that volume would be, it was quite a rare one she was sure, and wondered if Willow could be convinced to return it to her once she was done with it. Anya concluded that she could probably swing that bargain, the book wasn't being drained after all. She could tell that Willow was pulling just enough power to strengthen her for the time being, but being careful not to pull the words from the pages themselves. She'd never actually seen anyone do that, Anya mused, slightly disappointed that this wasn't what the witch was doing. But it proved that Willow was in it for more than just a power boost, willing to spend time with the tome and study it. Which meant that, in time, Anya could probably get her to return them once she was done. Anya smiled to herself at her solution… Giles wouldn't even have to know. _Still calling the security warlocks though, she shouldn't have been able to get that thing in the first place…_

"Oh. Goddess…" She heard Willow moan, and could all but feel the magicks that reverberated from her being. The vengeance demon inched closer to the scene, having long since abandoned the plan to escape once she'd found the doors magickally locked, and stood close to the front desk, just a little way away from Tara, to study the events before her. She was curious about this Willow. Confused about her intentions, but utterly overjoyed that she was still alive. _Or… is she technically dead? Or, undead?_ Regardless, she knew the rest of the 'Scoobies' didn't really feel the same, she'd gathered as much with their rather rude welcoming of the redhead, but she for one was glad to no longer be the only demon in the mix. "I missed this." Willow continued distractedly, her other hand grasping at the front desk to support her weight as she desperately gasped for air. Anya thought she saw Buffy twitch forward, as if she was considering using the moment of distraction to attack. She really hoped the blonde decided against it, that was _not_ a good idea… High, evil witches didn't let death threats slide quite so easily.

"It's almost ironic, isn't it?" Willow grinned, and Anya finally noticed the physical change that the overflow of magicks had introduced, "This is what got me killed. And now it makes me feel… _alive_. For lack of a better word, of course." The natural redhead was a redhead no longer, and her eyes sparked darkly with electric magicks. Anya frowned to herself at all the wasted magicks. If only she had held off on studying the tome more slowly and carefully, her body would have better adjusted to contain the power. It wasn't a permanent waste, but it was quite a drag from an efficiency standpoint. Anya was proud she still remembered so much, she had grown quite adept at this stuff from her forays into dark magicks in her human life, coupled with her desire to maintain her natural hair color. She watched as Willow picked at a lock of hair that had fallen on her face, carefully studying the color with an amused and excited grin on her face, "Huh. Interesting…" Anya wondered if she should catch the witch later to impart some of her advice, help her contain the overflowing magicks if she wanted. But the thought of what Willow could do with the full power of the book, especially when coupled with the slightly unhinged look currently on her features, made Anya quickly put a pin in that plan until she was a bit clearer on the vampire's intentions.

"So that's what you're after?" Buffy questioned, as if thinking on the same track as Anya, though probably without as much helpful advice in store. "The books? The dark magicks? And then what?" Though the Slayer put on an airs of toughness, Anya could tell that this had been the last straw in her determination. Buffy had quite obviously given up on facing the witch in her current state, probably hoping to learn more about what she was up against before getting tangled in a fight. But Anya knew that would only ever make things harder. "You planning on keeping the tradition of a springtime apocalypse?" Buffy continued, her mocking tone far too unserious for Anya's liking. This was what the vengeance demon had been truly afraid of, and it was no laughing matter. This Willow wasn't blinded enough by emotion to act without thought. She was willing to be slow and clever, and would only get stronger as time progressed. Annoyingly enough, she still contained the painstaking and irritating calculated nature of the human Willow, combined with the soulless demon inside her that craved destruction, and a willingness to fully embrace the dark magicks… If left unchecked, Willow Rosenberg could quite easily be the last thing this world had the displeasure of facing.

"Maybe, I like to keep my options open." Willow smirked back, amused that the Slayer was underestimating her, probably following the same line of thought that Anya had just been. The vengeance demon didn't quite like that answer enough to convince herself not to interfere. She decided to attempt an inconspicuous teleport to the location of the other strong dark magick books, wanting to remove the temptation the candy store provided to the child before her. She was quite certain that popular saying fit appropriately into this situation. "Anyanka…" Willow hummed just as Anya had started her slow teleport. _Damn_ , she cursed, it seemed that the child was more than a little privy to her tricks… "Come on, I know you're smarter than that. So don't even think about it," _That's true_ , Anya agreed easily, quick to take the compliment. At another time she would never have thought twice about a dark witch wishing to end the world. The more the merrier after all, and they _were_ technically on the same side, being evil and all. She would just jump ship to another alternate reality or dimension if things truly got hairy. But Willow wasn't just another dark witch though was she? She was a friend, and quite decidedly evil, which probably made her Anya's closest friend among the Scoobies. And on top of that… she was kind of starting to like this world. "We don't have to be enemies. You know that…" Anya did know that, and enemies was the last thing she wanted to be with the witch she had been mourning over just an hour ago. So she did the one thing she imagined she would do if Halfrek started speaking of destroying the world…

"Willow," Anya started with a deep breath, knowing full well that her people skills weren't quite the best, but also aware that evil people generally seemed to be less judgmental in that regard, "as glad as I am that you're alive – although not in the literal sense, of course – I think I'll have to agree with Buffy on this…" The vengeance demon saw the Slayer turn to her in surprise, as if just noticing her presence for the first time. Anya only met her eyes for a second, making it clear she was on the blonde's side for the time being, before turning back to the amused black eyes of the witch. "Those books... You don't know what you're getting into," She put as much urgency as she could behind her worlds, knowing Willow would pay her at least some attention with their shared demonage. Truth be told, she had little problem with the witch just studying the books for herself, and maybe wreaking some un-apocalyptic havoc in some other city. In fact, if she was being honest, she would probably be more than a little inclined to watch. But she wasn't going to tell that to her just now… Now, she was just going to keep her gaze locked with Willow's intense stare, trying her best to persuade the witch to not destroy the fun playground that the world could provide for her, "And while I'm usually all in favor of ending the world in a myriad of horrible ways… I'm just a little attached to this one. And I think I'd like it un-ended…" She resisted the urge to add 'from one demon to another' in her earnest speech, knowing it would probably do nothing but ostracize her friendship with the other Scoobies.

To Anya's pleasure, Willow seemed to be listening quite intently to her words, the smirk on her face slowly being replaced by a more serious expression, and the drunkenness of power leaving her dark eyes, which had now shrunk to a normal size. "I told you..." She started in a gentle voice that made its first appearance since she had absorbed the dark magicks, "I don't want to kill you…" Her voice was pleading, and her gaze shifted from Anya to the rest of the Scoobies, sans Dawn who was still unconscious, as she tried, not for the first time to convince her friends of her worlds. "Any of you… _Most_ of you," The last phrase almost alarmed the vengeance demon, but she relaxed as she saw it was directed only to Tara, and the threat to kill was obviously more of an invitation to sire.

Anya sighed in relief, being the only one in the group to actually believe the words. In her heart of hearts, of course, she knew it wasn't entirely quite true. Willow was a vampire, and this was her family, consisting of people that loved her, whom she had also once loved. Her longing for their blood and pain, and desire to drink them dry was undoubtedly driving her crazy. But the vampire had also given her no reason to doubt her so far, aside from the mild threatening of Xander. Anya believed her. Willow _wanted_ kill them, she was sure. She wanted it more than the humans could possibly comprehend. But she _wouldn't_ kill them. Why, Anya had no way of knowing. But she had easily had more than a dozen opportunities to do so, and ignored every single one. And that was all the vengeance demon needed to believe her. "Triggering apocalypses… usually tends to fall into the headline of 'killing' I think." Willow admitted, a warm smile still in place, like she was congratulating herself for being so accommodating, "So no, maybe I won't add that one to my bucket list."

"I don't believe a word coming out of your mouth," Buffy hissed, and Anya winced at the undeserved anger and venom in her voice. It was as if Buffy was doing everything she could to get under the witch's skin, either out of spite, anger, or foolishness. The demon could feel the deep distrust the Slayer felt for her once best friend, and that she saw every gesture made as simply a means to weaken their resolve until the witch could find the perfect moment to strike. _Which, to be fair, is probably a big part of it... Why go for the kill when you can go for the pain?_

In less than a second, just by hearing the sharp voice of her best friend, the smile that Anya had worked so hard to bring to Willow's lips vanished, and the low rumble in her chest made her rising anger quite apparent. Anya silently wished for the Slayer to back down, and just _talk_ to the demon. Or, better yet, let Anya talk. _Rue the day my people skills are actually better than Buffy's…_ But Buffy just continued, "You act like you know us, like you're our friend," the anger in her voice slowly made way for sadness and exhaustion, and Anya could see the dangerous mixture of aggression and grief coming together to form a volatile mix of emotions, "But you don't. And you're _not_. You're not Willow."

"Good Goddess!" came the roaring yell, accompanied by the shattering of glass display cases and multiple lightbulbs, and Anya knew some final straw had been… pulled? broken? She wasn't quite sure how that saying went. "What is it with you people?!" Willow continued to thunder, her eyes dark again, this time with nothing but seething rage, as her hair began to stand up on edge. The raw magicks and anger emanating from her made even Anya a little sick. Sick, and very, very scared. She inadvertently backed away slowly, but not moving quite as far as Tara and Xander had. She wasn't quite sure where she landed in Willow's definition of 'people', and wasn't willing to find out the hard way.

"I come in all nice and polite," Willow started in an annoyed tone, pacing the short width of the Magic Box as she finally let herself burst, "I do the whole peace offering and the extended hand…" She turned to face the Slayer now as the blonde stood frozen in place, rendered motionless by both the strength of the dark magicks and the sheer power emanating from the witch before her. Willow looked straight into her eyes as she growled animalistically for the first time that evening, "And I don't lift a fucking finger! When I could've _snapped_ Dawnie in half about a dozen times over by now," The witch made a fist with her hand to accentuate the image, and Anya couldn't help but shiver at the thought. Inoculated as she mostly was to violence against humans, she was unable to feel some sympathy for the young child she had come to regard as a friend, along with her older sister, who was visibly shaking at the image boing forced into her head. "I don't even _touch_ you," Willow continued, her voice suddenly breaking with emotion as she gazed into the Slayer's eyes with nothing but betrayal and anger, "and you _still_ make me the bad guy?"

Obviously angered by the betrayal of emotion in her voice, Willow closed her eyes and took a few moments to calm herself before continuing. Anya could almost feel how hard it was for the vampire to not rip the Slayer's throat out right there, and she imagined that Buffy's earlier distrust must have been true. If the vampire restrained herself from killing the offending party even at the brink of an outburst like this one, perhaps her plans for the Slayer really were worse than death… "I'm being so polite it makes me want to vomit my insides out." Willow sighed once she had calmed down, her eyes still dark and angry, but the magicks much more restrained. "What does it take, Buffy?" She questioned, her voice growing softer as she urged for a serious answer, but still maintaining the edge of anger. "It's me. _I'm_ Willow. And maybe I'm not the Willow you'd like to remember, but I'm the only Willow you've got left."

The sound of footsteps echoed the room as Willow closed the distance between herself and Buffy, standing close enough to feel the breath of the other on her face, "And all I need from you right now", she growled, "is to get out of my way before I do something you regret for the rest of your short life." Buffy still stood tall in the face of the threat, meeting Willow's eyes without betraying any hint of fear. Anya couldn't quite tell if there was anything to betray, but knew that Willow would smell any fear no matter how well it was hidden. And so far, her actions didn't really reflect those of a predator with a broken prey. "So believe me now, Slayer." Willow continued in a whisper, her vampire face finally revealing itself for the first time that evening, "Because you _really_ don't have a choice."

The air stood still for a few fateful moments as Anya wondered which of the two would be the first to strike. She could see Buffy itching to reach for her stake first, and the vampire readying to grab for her neck. Anya was never very good with the violence. Not the physical kind at least, the mental kind she had quite the practice with. This was far from being her playing field, and although she wasn't exactly in any real danger, being able to teleport if the need arose, it still made her horribly uncomfortable. So she used what was clearly, and ironically, becoming her only weapon in this specific situation, "Th-Then you'll let us go, right?" She squeaked, immediately clearing her throat to avoid producing such an embarrassing sound on her next attempt, "If you don't want to kill us. If you just want us out of the way… Then could you unlock the doors?" She finished hopefully, frowning when Willow refused to meet her gaze, "Please?"

"As soon as the Slayer lets me have what I want, the doors open." Willow growled, still wearing her demon on her face. She stared expectantly at Buffy, who Anya noticed was flinching ever so slightly every time her best friend referred to her as 'Slayer'.

"Not a chance." Came the easy reply from the blonde.

"Then there's your answer." The witch quipped back. This was honestly getting quite absurd…

"Will…" A new voice broke in, and Anya turned to look at the woman she had almost forgotten about. Tara stood tall, staring intently at her lover with sad eyes. She was shaking, but as far as Anya could tell she was _always_ shaking now. Always shaking, and always crying. But the tear stains on her cheeks were a lot less prominent than they were just some time ago…

The vampire looked up with a start, almost jumping when she heard her name being uttered with such tenderness. As Willow's eyes met her lover's, Anya saw the demon instantly retreat inside her, leaving a human face that now looked like a different person from before. Furrowed brows relaxed, and any trace of anger left her dark eyes. For a second, Anya even though she almost saw a return of scarlet to her hair

"Tara…" Willow whispered, uttering her name in a voice that was now hoarse from the strain of shouting. Her face contorted to one of regret and concern as she gave the brunette her full attention. "I-I'm sorry, baby, with the yelling," She murmured in a pleading voice, turning away from Buffy to walk closer to her lover, her frown deepening with sadness when Tara matched her forward steps with backwards strides of her own, "I know you don't like the yelling…" She sighed dejectedly as she retraced her steps, putting distance between herself and Buffy that more closely resembled where they had been before her outburst. Her eyes now turned to Anya, "A-And the breaking stuff… I'll pay you back for that." _Oh, I'm counting on it_.

"I just…" The vampire trailed off, sighing as she ran a hand through her hair, some of her earlier anger now returning. "They just really made me cranky, you know," She explained to her lover, her voice still calm even if etched with deep irritation. Anya almost wanted to nod in approval, they had made _her_ quite cranky too. But some underlying resentment from having her property damaged kept her from taking Willow's side in the matter. "That was annoying." She continued, now just purely irritated as she turned towards Buffy with narrowed eyes, "With the crossbows and the spitting in my face. That really hurt, okay?" She sighed again and forced herself to quell her emotions, turning back to her friends with an earnest look on her face. "I don't want to kill you guys. Just believe me," She tried again, a defeated look on her face as she already knew the words would mean nothing to the others. She attempted to chuckle as she joked, "Let's be realistic, if I really didn't care, Giles would be halfway on his trip to the next Chosen One by now…"

"I'm not giving you those books, Will." Buffy exclaimed stiffly. At this point, Anya almost had to agree. She had been with the vampire up until her outburst, after having been convinced that Willow wouldn't do anything apocalyptically evil, but the sheer ferocity of her rage had shaken the vengeance demon deeply. And she could tell, even if Willow's promise was made in earnest, that it would only take a few perfectly placed jabs at her unbeating heart to convince her to shroud the world in eternal darkness. But Anya also knew there was no way to stop her now, not really. They could try, of course, and Buffy probably _would_ try if she felt like she needed to. And someone would get hurt, or maybe even join Willow in death, and she would probably still get away. She was going to get away. And Anya would just have to keep a close eye on her…

"Alright…" Willow sighed in acceptance, surprising Anya with her accommodativeness, "I suppose I got the big one anyway." The witch raised her gaze up to the upper level of the Magic Box once again, and this time Anya was expecting the reach of magick before it came. And this time, it _did_ make her sick. _There, that's more along the lines of what I expected… without the bit about the hurling._

"And these should be good for now…" Willow continued obliviously with a smile, tracing the spines of a handful of new books she had just called to her side. Buffy forced herself to rise from where she had stumbled with the force of magicks, and made a feeble attempt to attack. "Ah-Ah-Ah," Willow scolded, flicking a finger to push the blonde back on the ground. Buffy panted desperately and looked eerily pale under the effects of the magicks, now directly aimed at her. Anya shivered as she imagined what that would feel like, especially to a human. "I'm not going back for seconds, Slayer. Just need to dip my toes in a bit… This is hardly the entire collection," Willow explained, trying to convince her that she wasn't getting away with much. And it was true, in comparison to the full racks of books they had in stock, she wasn't getting away with much. But what she _was_ getting… Anya's jaw clenched as she recognized the other texts. All as powerful as the first one, all incredibly complex to master, and often horrifyingly dark. And all very, _very_ expensive… _She'd better get those back in once piece or we **will** be enemies._

"Don't worry," Willow smiled, her attention drawn from the still immobilized slayer to land on the form of Tara, who had now inched a few steps closer. She smiled a smile lacking in warmth as her eyes sparked darkly with magicks, "I won't let my hair go all crazy again," She purred to her lover, "I know you love the red, baby."

"Willow, I-I think…" Tara whispered, her face pale and body still lightly swaying from the after effects of Willow's power. Willow looked at her expectantly, letting her engulf all her attention as if she was the most interesting thing in the world, "you need…" Tara continued, obviously having trouble with getting her body to listen to her. She finally continued after a few heartbeats once she had been gently egged on by her lover, and stared deeply into those black eyes as she whispered resolutely, "You need to _stop_."

Willow's face visibly fell at her lover's words, and she took a few steps closer, this time not letting Tara's backwards strides stop her. "So you're not coming with me, then?" She asked softly, and Anya's eyes widened as she remembered that this was also one of the things Willow had come for. The books…The books had been one thing. But the Slayer would _never_ let her take Tara alive. Anya thought for a few heartbeats. Could _she_ let Willow take Tara? She shook her head. No, it would never come to that. It would never come to Anya. She really wasn't very good with violence…

"You don't want that?" Willow asked after receiving a negative to her earlier question. Her voice was surprisingly vulnerable, and this time Anya didn't think it was a farce. She could easily take Tara if she wanted, not without a fight of course, but it was a fight she could easily win in Buffy's current state. And yet the vampire seemed to care what this witch thought of being sired. "You and me, us, forever?" Willow tried again, now standing just a few steps from Tara as the brunette stopped moving back and let her approach. "Those were my last thoughts, you know…" She murmured with a soft smile, reaching to touch the other witch's cheek, smiling wider as Tara let her, "How we were meant to be forever," Anya could see Tara's shaking worsen, saw her involuntarily melting into Willow's touch, "And that I couldn't let some worthless waste take that away from me…" For a second she saw Xander pass her, purposefully marching towards the two, obviously intent of coming between the vampire and her prey. But Anya hurriedly grabbed at him before either could notice and pulled him back, able to do so easily in his already dizzy state. She understood where he was coming from, she wanted to help too, at least a little bit. But this was the exact opposite of being the right time…

"I guess I was wrong, you know?" Willow continued to murmur to her lover, continuing to caress her check as Tara's eyes clasped shut with the intensity of emotions, "I guess he _gave_ us forever. True forever. If you want to take it?" Willow gently pulled her hand back as she saw the answer to her question in newly opened eyes, and she sighed softly, "I can wait," She assured her, in so low a whisper, Anya almost felt like a pervert for interrupting their privacy, "I know you'll find me when you're ready." The tenderness in her gaze vanished as she stepped back from the brunette witch, grinning as Tara's body instinctively leaned forward to recapture the heat of her body, "It's really no fun if you don't want it too…"

Dark eyes turned to the now-standing form of Buffy, grin still in place, "Oh, thanks for offing him, by the way. I can still smell the dust on you," Anya could only guess she was talking about her sire, a guess which was proven true as Buffy cringed at the mention of dust. "He was going to be my first stop anyway…" She scrunched her nose in distaste, the anger in her eyes resurfacing, "Way too boring to be with me…"

Silent seconds passed as the Scoobies slowly recovered themselves. Dawn stumbling to help Xander up after just regaining consciousness, and Xander finally emptying his stomach as close to the bathroom as he could get. Anya sighed at the introduction of yet another mess she would be expected to clean. Tara stood still, silently gazing at her lover, though Anya doubted that any coherent thoughts were going through her head. The lover, however, was quite oblivious to being stared at by both the Slayer and the witch, and Willow stood in place just casually flipping through one of the books she carried, lost in thought as she let the rest of the tomes float in the air beside her. Quite aware that no one could get to her, even as the Slayer clasped a stake in a trembling hand. The jiggling of a locked door, attempted by Xander, brought her out of her musing, and she looked around at the room, seemingly surprised they were still there. "Oh, you can go now," she announced with a cold smile, unlocking the doors with a flick of a finger, "I know the Slayer probably wants to take some stuff with…" Her eyes met Anya's for just a second, then went back to her books, seemingly aware that the vengeance demon would be helping keep the remainder of the dark magicks out of her reach, "I won't keep you," She murmured vaguely, still not moving from her place.

Buffy's eyes met Anya's and she knew the Slayer was probably thinking of the same plan to remove the books from the vicinity. Anya sighed lightly at all the teleportation that this plan would spell for her, and hoped no one was monitoring her for excessive transport. As Anya went back up to gather the first batch of books, she heard Buffy walk towards the vampire, the two now being the only ones in the room. Anya had a feeling Willow had stayed back almost exclusively for that moment.

"I don't know what you're planning," Buffy started with a voice that was still harsh even while it cracked from exhaustion, "But I'll sooner die than let you take Tara. Or hurt _any_ of them," Anya inched towards the end of the platform of the upper level, craning her neck to see the interaction. Even after this long day, she was still conflicted about Willow, still unsure of where the vampire stood. And if she was going to keep an eye on her, she need to know what to keep an eye out for. Though in reality of course, Anya was just intensely curious about those two… "And the first chance I get," Buffy hissed, standing threateningly close to Willow, though both knew that there would be no exchanges of violence that evening. "The first second they're not here to feel for you, to confuse you for the person you once were… I'll drive a stake through you myself." Buffy voice was meant to drive daggers through the heart, but only elicited a small grin from the witch before her, "Even if you fry me to a crisp on the way."

"Thanks, Buff," Willow's grin widened in a less than honest display of gratitude, as she called Buffy by her name for what felt like the first time that evening, "That's kind of touching, you know? In a… evil kinda way, which I guess I get now." Her grin vanished as she stared intently into Buffy's eyes for a few long seconds, her own eyes having calmed down from their earlier overflow of magick. Anya watched as color returned to her hair and eyes, and knew it was nothing more that time that had dictated the change. "I meant it when I said it, you know?" Willow whispered, and this time, Anya could feel the slightest sliver of hope coming from the Slayer, more likely than not propagated by the redhead's return to color, "I really don't want to kill you…" She gazed intently into her best friend's eyes for a few seconds longer, and Anya felt herself relax as well at the belief that Buffy could maybe finally begin to quell her distrust.

The grin returned, now morphing into a smirk, and Anya felt her relaxation revert itself to create even more tenseness than it had removed, "Believe me," the vampire purred, stepping even closer to the Slayer, an excited glint dancing in emerald eyes, "it'll be a _lot_ more fun to just watch you wither and die on your own..." Willow smirked wider at the anger she could no doubt feel emanating from the Buffy, reveling in her control over the blonde's emotions, "Of course, I'll try my best to help, but I think you'll manage it eventually." She backed up a few strides, and for a second, Anya thought she would finally leave. But the vampire stopped just a few steps away from the Slayer, suddenly turning back with a thoughtful look on her face, "Of course, that's unless Tara disagrees," She continued matter of factly, a smile returning, and green eyes now mixing into yellow, "If that happens…" She whispered, and Anya could hear the excitement dripping from her voice, "we'll probably just bind you in your sleep, and let you watch us kill the others." She heard Buffy take in a deep breath, no doubt trying to calm the anger clawing inside her. Willow just smiled, dreamily looking up into the ceiling, lost in her own thoughts, "Hmmm…" she finally hummed, turning back to her friend with a grin, her eyes now unmistakably yellow, and Anya wondered how her face hadn't morphed yet, "Dawnie could probably fit on that little slanted roof in your room, right?" She asked casually, grin widening as fire danced in her eyes, "Would give you a pretty nice view…"

And that was all it took for Buffy to pounce on the vampire, and she grabbed at her collar roughly in one hand, the other held in place by one of Willow's, keeping the stake at a safe distance from herself. The redhead wore a smile as she watched the Slayer struggle with her simultaneous powerlessness and explosions of rage. Anya thought she heard a gasp from the Slayer that usually signified the presence of tears. "Try me, Buff," Willow whispered, her tone almost seductive if it hadn't promised of things that were far from sexy, "Please, try me." Anya could tell it was an invitation Willow desperately hoped the blonde would take.

"You guys have a good night's sleep now," She called as she disentangled herself from Buffy, walking a few steps further towards the entrance of the Magic Box before letting herself slowly dissolve into smoke, casting a last lingering look at the teary Slayer behind her, "Don't go having too much fun without me, Buff…"

There was only one thought Anya could muster as she desperately sought more books, trying to look busy as Willow's promises for Dawn danced in her head, making her feel something dangerously close to disgust.

 _God, D'Hoffryn is going to **lose it** when he finds out what he missed out on…_

 _…and, wait, did she take my scissors?!_

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 **A/N:** Anya's a surprising amount of fun to write, and might end up being a bigger part of the story than I initially planned. People so often forget that she's like really kinda evil at this point in Buffy. It's really the only time we see her as vengeance demon in action. Her POV wasn't planned at all, it was just supposed to be Buffy through and through, but I'm a lot happier with this. Buffy kinda comes off as an ass(ish) because of it, but really if I'm being honest she was getting a bit tiring to write by the time I got to the POV change. Also "It's about power" just really _really_ deserved a mic drop, just cause I love that line (even though Will was kinda obnoxious when she says it in _Two to Go_.)

Also, I know, SO MANY MONOLOGUES, but this is probably the most concentrated Vamp Willow goodness you'll get in a while, and also first impressions and all, so I had to make it count. She's _very_ hot and cold and all over the place, and I know that and it's very on purpose. Also hope I explained her magicks ok, it's not exactly the same as in _Villains_ as she's not really as emotionally unstable as she was then. And about the crazy power difference, I don't _really_ think she's more powerful than Buffy before sucking the book, but you also have to consider how weak Buffy is at that point, both physically and emotionally. She's been puking till there's nothing to puke, and Will's just here like "Hey, want me to make it worse for ya? ;) " And after the book, she's definitely more powerful, but still not as much as it seems to be in this situation. The only two people who have a chances against her, Tara and Buffy, are just drained. I also really think that Will could've easily taken Buffy in _Two to Go_ if she'd actually used her combat magicks rather than just raw strength... But we're getting too into this. Don't worry about the power difference, it all gets resolved.

 **Hey, leave a review to let me know what you like / don't like! Helps tell me there're actually people reading my bored 'ol mind make stuff up and post it. :P Also, hey, sneak peaks, always of the good!**


	5. Knights in Armor

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 **:: Chapter 5** : Knights in Armor... **::**

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The warmth of the house felt foreign to Buffy, after spending so many hours in the coldness of the Magic Box, and then Sunnydale itself. She felt the blood slowly rush back to her cheeks, though she could see in the hallway mirror that she was still as pale as ever. She also spotted an errant tear which she hadn't noticed, and wiped it away in a hurry before ushering everyone else in.

The books were safe in Anya's apartment; a plan Buffy had originally been emphatically against. But as she had watched the vengeance demon teleport with stacks upon stacks of books, she found herself agreeing with her friend's decision. Buffy had expected another five, maybe ten books. Just enough for her to slip somewhere in the basement and keep out of harm's way. But the sheer number of books astonished her, and she knew that keeping them at the Summers House might be safe for the books, but it wasn't safe for them. That much magick, that close to Dawn; that close to Tara.

She looked back at Tara now, who was seemingly stuck at the threshold of the entrance, even once the others had made their way in and settled in the dining room. Her mind and gaze were wandering elsewhere, her body no longer shaking, but looking almost sadder in its stillness. Buffy made her way to the witch now, and gently made to grab her shoulders, "Hey, it's okay," She murmured as her touch was met with the flinch she had been expecting, "It's just me, Tara." Blue eyes finally focused back to her form, and a shaky breath left her lips, accompanied by the watering of her eyes. Buffy felt her stomach twist at the sight, thinking back to the encounter that had left the girl in this state. Thinking back to how the Slayer had been unable to do anything, unable to _move_ , as the monster wearing Willow's face attempted to court its lover. It had _touched_ her. And that was all she had needed to break.

"Buffy…" came the cry for help from cracking lips. Buffy didn't need anything more to welcome the witch into embrace, rubbing her back as she felt the girl shake from soft sobs. "I-I didn't… When I – I wouldn't, I swear…" The broken girl murmured incoherently, and Buffy gathered that she was recalling the time she had nearly willingly given herself over to Willow. Buffy sighed as she quelled the witch's doubts, assuring her that she had nothing to prove; that she was trusted. But Buffy wasn't quite sure if she could believe her own words. Not now. She had seen the offer to sire be presented to the girl in her arms, had watched as Tara desperately struggled between her longing to touch her lover once more, and her desire to resist the pull of darkness. It was a pull that Buffy had always implicitly trusted Tara to resist. And yet now, she could see that on some level Tara's lines between black and white had all been blurred beyond recognition. "I… I just. I don't understand. Anything." Tara continued to mumble between shaky gasps as she unsuccessfully attempted to recover from her sobs. Buffy supported the weight of the witch through her embrace, feeling the brunette's body weakening under her weight, "I'm so tired, Buffy."

"I know," Buffy assured her, feeling yet another defying tear leave her eye, "Look, you just rest, ok? We'll figure this out, I promise." She slowly disentangled the witch from her embrace, making sure she could support herself as she held her shoulders tightly just in case. "Are you ok to go up the stairs?" She asked once Tara's breathing had calmed, her eyes still looking tired and lost, "Do you want me to carry you up?" The witch shook her head, assuring her friend that she would be fine. "Come on then," she hesitantly let go of Tara's shoulders, gently grabbing her hand and pulling her up the stairs, "Let's get you into bed."

The blonde hesitated for less than a second when they arrived at what used to be Willow and Tara's room, and instead just continued to usher Tara further along the hallway. She heard Tara take in a shaky gasp as she no doubt recognized the room they had just passed, and revisited memories that were now colored in pain for more reasons than one. She then hesitated, without quite meaning to, when they arrived at her room, where she had been planning to let Tara sleep the night. Buffy's eyes fixed onto the slanted roof that had become a hallmark of her room over the years. The little quirk that had always made her room feel like her own. She looked at it now, and all she could see was Dawn's body, cut and bleeding like she had been at Glory's tower. She saw her hanging in a crucifix position, her blood slowly dripping onto bed under her. Onto Buffy. She imagined waking up with that sight being the first to greet her…

"This can be your room now, if you want," was her answer to those thoughts, as she tore her eyes away from that roof and landed them on Tara. Her voice betrayed the emotions that were erupting from within her, and for a moment Tara turned to her with a look of concern, ready to push away her own pain to tend to the blonde's. But Buffy just wiped at her eyes, and put on a brave smile, ushering the blonde farther into the room and letting her embrace the comfort of her bed. She wouldn't let Tara bear her burdens this time. This time, it was her turn to take care of the people she loved. This time, her pain would have to come second to theirs. She would handle this. Handle Willow. She would have to.

"Do you want me to bring you some clothes?" Buffy asked as Tara settled under the covers, thinking how uncomfortable it must be to sleep in the witch's current attire. But Tara showed no signs of discomfort as she shook her head, only curling herself into the pillow as if urging it to envelop her entire being. Buffy fiddled around some more in the room, handing Mr. Gordo over to Tara to snuggle as needed, and then finally pulled a chair over to seat herself next to the resting witch. She still wanted to be out of that room as fast as possible, but she knew as long as Tara's eyes remained open, gazing listlessly into nothingness, looking absolutely defeated, the witch would remain lost in the fantasies created by her own despair. She sat still for a while, watching Tara, silently letting her know of her presence, until the ache of seeing her friend in this state became too much to bear. Finally, hesitantly, she reached out to lay a hand on the brunette's head, stroking her hair in comfort the same way Tara had comforted her just a few months ago.

Tara looked up from her lost gaze, her eyes peeking out from above Mr. Gordo, whom she was now clutching tightly, "What are you going to do to her?" were the only words escaping her lips, her voice hoarse with sobs and exhaustion. Buffy looked into vulnerable blue eyes, and for a moment wanted desperately to lie. But she could hardly know what the lie would be, when she didn't even know what the truth was…

"I don't know," she just answered with a sigh. Her gaze fell to the roof above her and she realized at least a part of that had inadvertently been a lie too. Deep in her heart, she knew what she was supposed to do. What she needed to do. But now, away from the heat of the battle and the thick veil of grief, it was hardly as simple as that... "We'll talk about it tomorrow, ok?" She looked back into Tara's eyes, her hand resuming its soothing motion as she stroked soft hair, "We can have a Scooby meeting and talk about our options," She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, even as the friend in her cursed her for white lies. "You can think about it tomorrow. Right now, you just need to rest."

She stayed by the witch's side for some time, murmuring reassurances to her when she saw the glazed look in her eyes that signified thoughts of Willow. She wished she could stay with the brunette through the night, scare away the nightmares she was sure would plague her mind. But as ragged breathing finally calmed and blue eyes stayed shut, she knew she couldn't stand another second in this room beyond what was needed. Not now. She would just have to make certain she was there in the morning before Tara woke up.

As she stumbled her way into the kitchen, hoping to replace the contents of her stomach that she had regurgitated earlier that day, she was more than a little surprised to see the rest of the group already seated around the kitchen island, sipping cups of coffee or hot chocolate. "You're back," She called to Anya, surprised the vengeance demon was already done teleporting the significant stacks of books from the Magic Box. She wondered just how long she had been upstairs with Tara…

"That's what it looks like," Anya answered with a forced smile as she sipped her coffee, and Buffy noticed the dark circles and messy hair, realizing how battered the demon looked. She had never known teleportation was stressful to the user, but she supposed now that it made more than a little sense. She reached out and squeezed Anya's arm in silent solidarity, feeling closer to the demon after the moment they had shared in Magic Box. The moment when, after watching Willow leave her to the coldness of the empty shop, Buffy had felt slim arms envelop her body into a tight hug. The vengeance demon had stubbornly held on even as Buffy began to push her away in mild annoyance, refusing to let go until the Slayer felt her inhibitions crumble, eventually turning into a sobbing mess in the demon's arms. She had forgotten just how strong Anya was sometimes…

"Probably stupid to ask how everyone's doing, huh?" Buffy absently noted as she moved to join the others in their hot chocolate endeavor. The answer to the unasked question was beyond obvious just by looking at their faces. Both Xander and Dawn looked pale, emotionally and physically worn out, with Xander being on the worse end and looking more than a little sick too. Buffy felt a surge of protectiveness towards Dawn as she moved to stroke her sister's hair and place a light kiss on her forehead, asking her if she was okay just in case. The younger girl just gave her a forced smile and a half hug in response. It tore at Buffy that she had let Willow's remarks get to her this deeply. But the image of a crucified Dawn, hanging limply from the roof of her room refused to leave her mind. "So, what's the rundown?" The Slayer asked the demon as she settled in with her hot chocolate, putting a small plate of cookies on the table, much to Xander's delight, "What books did she take, what can she do with them… Give me the cliff notes."

"Just books about the dark magicks," Anya answered, brows furrowing in concentration as she thought back to the tomes, "She mostly went for the really rare stuff. The kind of books we only keep so than no one else gets their hands on them?" The vengeance demon rolled her eyes at that, clearly unimpressed by a philosophy that essentially made them sit on their money. "She probably probed for the strongest stuff she could find. That's what the magick was that caused Xander to defile my shop." Xander obviously objected to that statement, a task made harder by the half of a cookie that was protruding from his mouth. Buffy wanted to smile at his antics for the first time that day, but the recollection of what it was that had made her friend sick and empty-stomached in the first place quickly crushed that smile. Those magicks… Willow hadn't even been trying to affect them, and yet both times they had nearly brought the Slayer to her knees. And when they _had_ been aimed at her…

"So, Buff," Xander broke the silence that had thickened, and Buffy realized she must have zoned off as the plate of cookies was now a significantly shorter stack, "What's the plan? We gonna snag one of those balls of who's-a-lots? Get all soulsey?" The carpenter questioned with a forced casual tone. Buffy looked up in confusion for a few seconds before she understood what he was talking about, and turned to see Dawn waiting expectantly for her answer. It seemed this a conversation that had already been stated before her…

"Orb of Thesula" Anya corrected with a frown, obviously straining to recall the specifics of the restoration spell, "and that's a very complex spell. I have a few contacts with the gypsies but… I don't really think they have that kind of power anymore."

"Well, yeah," Dawn interjected, seemingly nonplussed that the plan was being shut down so easily, "b-but Willow did it once before, right?" she finished hopefully, the revelation obviously shocking Anya. Buffy was surprised the ritual had never come up during the demon's relationship with Xander, but then realized that it would require the mere mention of Angel, and quickly grew very unsurprised. "Maybe Tara can–"

"No." Buffy interrupted decisively, knowing exactly where the conversation was headed. And that was _not_ a direction she wanted to explore. "You really want to do that to her?" She asked in a softer tone, "Have you _seen_ the state she's in?" She eyed the others incredulously, immediately receiving guilty looks from both Xander and Dawn. She knew she was cheating in using Tara, using her pain, but she couldn't bear to let them think there was a smallest chance at ensoulment… Even the slightest hesitation in facing the redhead demon, the smallest sliver of hope, opened up their hearts to both emotional and physical damage. She had a right to know. "Even if Tara recovers enough to stabilize her casting, she doesn't know the ritual nearly as well as she needs to." She continued to argue, her heart aching at the deflated looks she received from her friends. But this bandage needed to be torn off swiftly, the thorn removed without hesitation. They needed to accept the inevitable. She looked directly at Dawn with understanding, caring eyes, "And she's _not_ Willow, Dawnie…"

A teary Dawn looked at her with eyes filled with defeat, knowing at least somewhat that she was wrong in maintaining hope, but refused to give up without a fight. "But can't we try? It wouldn't hurt to try…" She pleaded in a small voice.

"She'll be able to sense the magicks from a mile away the second you started," Anya answered readily, and Buffy was more than a little relieved to have found an ally in the conversation, "And once she sees what you're doing… Even if she can't physically enter uninvited, it doesn't really stop her from bringing the building down."

"So I guess that's a no on the soul angle…" Xander sighed, resting head in hands as another silence filled the room. All parties quietly contemplated what the obvious alternative would entail. "Maybe," Xander suddenly broke the silence, a hopefulness in his voice that immediately put Buffy on edge, "Maybe we can talk to her? O-Or control her?" Yeah, Buffy definitely didn't like where that was going, "Maybe she wants to be helped?"

"She's a demon, Xander!" Buffy exclaimed, setting her emptying cup of hot chocolate down on the kitchen island with a resonating clash, startling the rest of the Scoobies. This trail of thought was going to get them all killed… "She can't be reasoned with, and she can't be helped. She seemed pretty happy _exactly_ the way she was."

"Hey," Anya scowled, and Buffy stared at her in shock, wondering how in the world she was being argued with on so basic a principle as vampire = bad, " _I'm_ a demon. And I like to think of myself as relatively reasonable." Buffy stiffly reminded her that that wasn't what she'd meant, and that a vampire was just far more dangerous than a vengeance demon. But it seemed to have the opposite effect as intended, and Anya looked decidedly offended. "So you're saying that a thousand-year-old demon, who's now back in the game with fresh new motivation to shred the hearts of the male sex, is less threatening that a newborn vampire that knows how to lift a pencil?" Xander winced as his ex- reminded him of the events that had led to her reintroduction to the vengeance circle, and Buffy internally took a note to keep an eye on the havoc Anya had been causing, hoping it wouldn't force her to intervene…

"That's not what I'm saying Anya," The Slayer attempted to assure her, sighing as the demon still looked unconvinced, "Look, you can only hurt us if we let you. She'll hurt us the first chance she gets," She looked the other Scoobies in the eye as she attempted to remind her friends of the fact that they seemed to have so easily forgotten. "We can control you; we can't control her." Buffy noted a pointed look received from Dawn, coupled with the intake of breath readying for an argument, and immediately knew to interrupt, "And _no_ , Dawn, we don't really have a military-grade chip at our disposal right now…" The teen just rolled her eyes in response, a pout on her lips.

"We can't change her." Buffy concluded for her friends, letting the words hang in the air. They all grew silent as they let their faces fall once more. Even Anya, who hadn't looked too displeased with how things had turned out, wore a defeated frown. Cookies disappeared one by one, and dirty mugs were carelessly piled into the sink, but no one was ready to leave their post. If they left now, they would be faced with the darkness of their beds, which would eventually force them to face the start of the new day.

"She stole my scissors." Anya suddenly exclaimed, just as Buffy was contemplating to disperse the group. Three pairs of eyes turned to her with looks varying from questioning to confused. "She's a thief." Was all Anya answered with.

"Ahn…" Xander trailed, wordlessly asking the demon what in God's name she was going on about. Buffy quite agreed with his unuttered question, though she was more than a little thankful to have the silence be broken.

"You're right, I'm sorry." Anya finally grumbled, letting her head fall into her hands for a few seconds in frustration, "It's just. That's something I can actually do something about…" Her muffled voice reasoned with an exasperated sigh, and Buffy could understand the helplessness she felt. A feeling Dawn and Xander had gotten used to over the years, but one that must be foreign to the vengeance demon. Especially one more accustomed to causing physical pain than receiving emotional one. "I can't really do _anything_ about Willow, or her books, or Dawn…" She lazily listed as she lifted her head again, looking at Buffy with ancient, tired eyes and an apologetic expression. Buffy only smiled back in understanding. Anya was, after all, the only other person who knew about Willow's threat to Dawn. It was what had driven the demon to embrace the Slayer after the encounter, holding her until she let out her bottled emotions in an outburst of betrayal, fear, and pain. But this was _not_ the time to talk about Dawn…

"Wh-What'd I do?" Dawn piped up, as if on cue, suddenly alert at the mention of her involvement. "I wasn't even awake for most of that stuff…" Her voice took the automatic defensive tone of a teenager accustomed to being blamed, almost always with reason, for things going wrong.

"Nothing," Xander assured her with a smile, his tone straining as he recalled the outburst he had heard, only a mild version of the real threat that Buffy had been privy to, "Just. She kinda insinuated that she could do things that might be deemed a little threatening…" Dawn's eyes widened in concern at the introduction of a new threat, and she looked over to Buffy for the Slayer to quell her fears. Xander sensed the tension his words had caused, and hastily attempted to diffuse the situation, "But it was just, you know, whatdya call it? Hyperbole. She wasn't really serious. It was almost like a joke..."

"It was far from a joke, Xander." Buffy answered, her voice on the brink of anger. He had no idea what he was talking about, operating with only a fraction of the knowledge. Knowing only what Willow wanted him to know… Her inability to meet Dawn's gaze further exacerbated her fear, until Anya finally calmed the girl by mentioning the pseudo-threat that was being discussed by Xander, trying her best to downplay the words. Buffy was thankful for the lie from the vengeance demon, and relaxed as her sister calmed down, obviously not taking the specific encounter very seriously.

"She wasn't serious, Buff." Xander continued to argue, his opinion obviously coinciding with Dawn's. Buffy sighed in exhaustion, growing tired of reminding her friends of the nature of a monster, "You heard her, she was angry." He continued, his voice growing almost sad as he recounted the outburst, "God, she looked like she was gonna cry…" Xander deflated slightly with a sigh, his slightly sad tone now turning completely sad, "She was right. She keeps telling us she won't hurt us and we just throw it back at her face with our stupid crossbows." His voice trailed off into a whisper, "She didn't lift a finger on us…"

"Xander…" Buffy warned, no longer hiding her anger. She couldn't believe they were back to this discussion again. A discussion which should rather just be a fact than a discussion. But Willow had been more than a little successful in her collection of allies, implanting doubts and seeds of hope in the people who had once been her friends.

"Look, I know, ok. I was there with Jesse…" He admitted with a defeated sigh, and for a second Buffy allowed herself to relax, hoping against hope that he had finally come to his senses, "But I hadn't known Jesse for most of my life… Jesse didn't care about me the same way Will cares about us." Xander continued stubbornly, and Buffy wondered where all his hidden trust in vampires had been when it had come to Angel all those years ago. "I don't know Buffy," He continued, his voice growing soft and hopeful where it had once been confident and assertive, "She's saying she doesn't want to hurt us, and her actions back her up… I just think we should listen to her. Maybe she'll let us help..."

"She's not going to _kill_ you," Anya agreed just as Buffy was about to launch into another heated argument, "But hurting you is still a little up in the air, I'd say…" Buffy was thankful that words other than her own had been successful in silencing Xander's doubts. She was tiring quickly of playing this tune, especially when it necessitated her to convince herself of her words every time she spoke them… She turned her eyes to the now silent Xander, and could sense him thinking back to his alarming encounter with the pokey end of his arrow. She would have to pull him aside later, the Slayer decided. Tell him about the vampire's cold words and promises of pain. Of the real threat than had been made to Dawn. She knew that was the one thing that could trigger the logic in his brain to function.

"You could talk to her," Dawn suddenly spoke up to Anya, and Buffy groaned in annoyance that the discussion was still somehow continuing, flopping her head into her hands in defeat. "Maybe she'll listen to you. Because you're both demons?" Yes, Buffy decided, she'd have to talk to Xander soon. Very soon. With him still on the fence, and Dawn being as hopeful as she always was, it would be more than she could handle to keep them both in check, not to mention Tara. Dawn, she could handle. But Xander had been the one card she had been depending on. The one person who she had trusted to see the situation for what it was, to see through the emotion. But it was clear that his encounter with Jesse, and his reservations about Angel and Spike, didn't quite factor into the equation when it came to Willow. She supposed she should have expected as much…

"Me?" Anya questioned skeptically, "What can I do?" Buffy pulled her head out her hands for a second as she recalled the demon's brief interaction with the vampire.

"You _did_ talk her out of destroying the world…" Buffy allowed carefully, not quite meaning to encourage Dawn any further, but unable to resist the introduction of a new tactical option. As much as she disliked where the idea had been introduced, she couldn't argue that it was a bad one. If Anya _could_ talk to Willow, the possibilities for taking her down widened immensely. Buffy felt her mind fall back into a familiar rhythm as she thought of possible traps and advantages that could now factor into the mix… For the first time, they could have the slim possibility of truly having the upper hand.

"Buffy," Anya's voice pulled her out of her musing, and she turned to see the vengeance demon frowning deeply in dissent, "I didn't talk her out of anything she actually wanted to do, ok?" Buffy sighed as the words deflated her fleeting moment of power, but couldn't help but nod halfheartedly at what she knew to be true. It could never be that easy, after all… "That girl…" Anya continued, eyes drifting off as she fought back a shiver, "I-I can't touch her. I just _can't_. And honestly… I don't think I really want to."

"So… what do we do?" Xander's small voice asked after a few minutes had passed. Any further discussion of 'helping' Willow had thankfully been quashed for the time being, and Buffy couldn't quite tell if Xander's question was an attempt to reopen the discussion, or a genuine request for instructions.

" _I_ will do whatever _I_ have to do," The Slayer stressed with a strict frown, " _You_ will not be leaving the house after dusk until we have things under control," She sighed once she received understanding nods from the others, and was forced to consider the question once more. What _would_ she do? Even if the decision to end Willow had been made, it was far from being as easy as it sounded. Both emotionally and physically… Staking Willow brought with it the same pain killing Angelus had, amplified further by the remnants of grief that still made Buffy's insides ache. And as skilled a fighter as Angelus had been… the involvement of magicks was a whole new ballgame for the Slayer. "I don't know, Xand." She admitted quietly, deciding that she was quickly starting to dislike that phrase, "Right now I'm just thinking we do what we can. Protect the books we have… maybe wait till her power drains and she needs more…" Even to her own ears it sounded more than a little hopeless. But it was the only semblance of a plan the Slayer had been able to contemplate so far, hoping that the withdrawal of the dark magicks could at least temporarily weaken the witch as she craved for another hit.

"That's not a good idea…" Anya immediately interjected, her eyes widening with concern for the Slayer that made Buffy more than a little scared herself, "If she actually spends time with those books…" The demon trailed off with a look that was now slowly inching towards being almost impressed, "She's going to get at least ten times more powerful than she was with her temporary boost. And this would be permanent."

Buffy felt an involuntary shiver go through her at the thought, and felt the pressure rising as she was now introduced to the clock she would have to run against. "So what, there's no point?" She asked in a small voice, feeling exhausted and broken, no longer finding herself able to care that Dawn and Xander were still there. No longer feeling capable of being strong… If the witch was only getting more powerful, after an encounter which had already left the Slayer helpless, then was there really any point in faux bravado? "I mean she was already… I couldn't even _stand_." She slayer whispered mostly to herself, unable to prevent frustrated tears from staining her cheeks, even as she wiped them away a few seconds later. She shut her eyes and attempted to calm herself, not wanting to see the scared looks the Scoobies no doubt wore at seeing their strong Slayer crumble.

"You're not really in your best shape, Buff. None of us are," Xander attempted to console her, and she felt a rough hand envelope one of hers. She clutched it desperately, letting herself be anchored, trying to somehow suck the comfort from him that he was ready to give. Moments like these she would usually spend crying on Tara's shoulder, or Willow's. But now the few safe places the Slayer had to bare her weakness had been stripped from her, leaving her to be comforted by the people she was meant to comfort. "And I mean, we had what was probably the longest day in history… We'll figure things out." Xander squeezed gently at her hand, and she let herself look up at the brown haired boy, preparing herself to see the fear in his eyes that was no doubt shaking through his being. But all she was welcomed with was the warmth of his smile, and love in his eyes. Eyes that she could see were tearing up, but refusing to let that get in the way of being strong for his friend. Even as his cheeks became wet once more, the squeezing of his hand did not falter, and Buffy could only squeeze back. Perhaps this was what she would have to do now. To take comfort wherever she it was offered, even as she was giving it herself…

The boy shuffled over after a few more seconds, offering her a half hug that she heartily accepted. She let herself be lost in the embrace, much like she had with Anya, but this time letting it fill her with strength rather than empty her of tears. The sound of a distant yawn broke her away from the brief moment, and she untangled herself from him with the smallest of heartfelt smiles. "Maybe we should call it a night," She offered Dawn, who had been the originator of the sound. Her little sister smiled thankfully in response. "Xander's right… we have all day tomorrow. Right now I think we all just need some sleep." She gave his hand, which still rested protectively on her shoulder, a small squeeze to let him know she was okay. "I'll call Giles in the morning." She agreed when Dawn brought up the older English man who had been living in London for almost a year, "Preferably sometime in _his_ morning, let him get a good night's sleep too."

The party dispersed slowly, Dawn heading back to her room and Anya teleporting back to hers with a tired stretch. The Slayer offered to make the couch for her male friend, not at all wanting him to step foot outside the house while it was still dark. "So, what do we do at the Scooby meeting tomorrow?" He suddenly asked once Buffy had brought down a pillow and blanket to help him settle down. She looked at him in confusion for a few seconds, not quite understanding what he was getting at. "With Tara?" He clarified in little more than a whisper, his eyes filled with sadness and concern for the witch, "What do we tell her?"

Buffy sighed as she contemplated whether to lie to him as well. She knew quite clearly what the witch was going to try and argue the next day. And she had been fully intending to put a halt to it, much like she had done today. She looked up at the waiting eyes of her friend, and realized this was as good a time as any to have another person in her corner. "There's no other way, Xander," She whispered back to him urgently, relaxing as she saw him offer an answering nod as a sign of acceptance, "I have to kill her… It. Somehow." She trailed, seating herself onto the couch as she reevaluated her decision to tell him about Dawn, wondering if the revelation would only make him too harsh to deal with Tara's grief. "Tara's gonna argue for the soul restoration… But it's just too dangerous. She's never done it before, and with Will's magicks, if she senses what's happening…"

"I know." Xander interrupted her, the earlier argument still clear in his mind. Buffy sighed as she noted the look of sad acceptance his face wore, and decided the man didn't need any more help to understand what needed to be done. She was more than a little thankful for that. Willow's threat was already fading from Buffy's mind like a distant nightmare, and recounting it would only ever allow the vampire to hurt them both.

"We'll just focus on understanding her power for now. Go all Research-mode I think it's probably for the best if we lose ourselves in the books for a while." The Slayer continued as Xander took the seat beside her on the couch, playing with the spare pillow at his side. She trailed off in her thoughts for a second as she began to contemplate what such a research would entail. There had to be at least some historical precedent for this situation. Something to help them understand what was happing to Willow, hopefully something a bit more insightful than a vengeance demon… "If she brings it up, we'll just deal." Buffy continued after a few more seconds of silence, shaking herself out of her thoughts. She sighed and turned to her friend with a pleading look, knowing he understood her concerns, having seen the witch's broken state himself. "I just don't want to give her any false hope, Xand. She's already just barely…" The Slayer trailed off, her voice breaking as she recalled the current lost state of the witch that now slept in her bed. Buffy was sure Tara had already been given some cruelly false hope when she had first seen her lover reanimated, and then once again when she had been offered a place next to the redhead. But those cruel twists of emotion had been out of Buffy's control, perpetrated by the woman that had once claimed to love the brunette witch. And she had no intention of letting the monster get that close to her again.

"I just miss her." Xander whispered in so low a voice, Buffy almost didn't catch it. She turned to see the carpenter staring off into nothingness, the pain apparent in his voice. For a second, Buffy allowed herself to remember what it was like to miss her too, what it had been like before the grief had been replaced with anger and fear. She closed her eyes and imagined Willow walking into the room with them, quelling all their doubts by showing them the research she had pulled up on magickally inclined vampires. She imagined those emerald eyes sparkling in innocent excitement as she informed them that they had found a spell that could protect Buffy from the dark magicks. Imagined the sad but determined smile she would wear as she helped Tara prepare for the spell, willing to take the sidelines.

Then she took a deep breath, letting the air fill up the deep hole that had been left where Willow had once been.

"I know, Xand." She answered with a surprisingly level voice, betraying none of the pain that had resurfaced. "God, I miss her too…" Now it was her turn to take the carpenter's hand and squeeze tightly. Xander looked up at her with a tired smile, assuring her he was okay after a few more seconds. "You should stay here for a while," Buffy offered as she stood from her place on the couch, straightening up the sheets she had just disturbed and letting him recline in the familiar furniture. She insisted when he argued that it probably wasn't necessary, not liking the thought of leaving him alone and inaccessible all night, both because of the danger it posed, and because of the loneliness it would intensify. She needed her friends to be close at a time like this, and he needed to not feel alone at a time when his oldest friend had been ripped away from his life. "It's not a big deal, I promise." She reassured him, encouraged by the hesitance in his next objection, "I can have an air mattress set up in the basement if you want," She offered in case it was the couch that was throwing him off, even though he had already spent plenty a night in that spot, "Or Dawn and I can just sleep in Tara's room…"

The last phrase seemed to stir something in him, and he halted his objections altogether, letting her know he was fine on the couch for as long as she would have him. She smiled and offered him as much comfort as she could muster with a single shoulder squeeze, turning to leave just as she heard his last whisper. "Tara's room…" He murmured, too low for anyone without Slayer hearing to catch, and Buffy felt her body freeze for a second as she heard the words. She hadn't realized before quite how unfamiliar it sounded to her ears; how wrong. She couldn't quite remember the last time she had heard the phrase, even while Willow and Tara had been separated.

She let the silence in the living room stay unbroken with nothing but the sound of her receding footsteps going up the stairs, the words slowly engraving themselves in her head as she peaking in to make sure the witch was slumbering peacefully.

 _Tara's room…_

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 **A/N:** I have no excuse for this chapter being as long as it was, I just write too much honestly. This was what I might argue a bit of a 'filler' chapter. Except it's not actually filler and has some stuff that needs to be said... But really in my head any chapter without a healthy dose of drama is a tad filler-y, ya know? I tend to subconsciously hate having short paragraphs (someone just needs to outright tell me that this is a bad habit cause I'll just never fix it otherwise) so this chapter kinda irked me in that regard... Just a lotta dialogue really, and not much exposition to expose.

It's also a bit of an unofficial two-parter kind of chapter. This, along with the next one, serve mostly to - like I said - say some stuff that needs to be said, and more deeply explore some of the characters we haven't seen much of (Dawn, Xander), and some we might be curious about (Willow?).

 **As always, reviews are welcomed! Sneak peaks are your positive reinforcement! Also, hey, still looking for a chill Beta who might be down to look through my work before I post stuff, and maybe give me a healthy bashing on the head when I worry about unimportant things like paragraph length and braking up dialogue...**


	6. Demons in Leather

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 **:: Chapter 6** : ...and Demons in Leather **::**

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Anya sighed as she closed up the Magic Box, growing increasingly aggravated as she fumbled with the large bundle of keys that contained the means of locking the back door. She was nearly on the verge of just throwing the whole batch at the door when her hands finally got ahold of the singular key she needed for the task, and she sighed in relief. Like so many of the ones before it, this had _not_ been a good day.

Sure, she'd had a reasonable expectation that Giles would want to be involved with the dealings of the new vampire witch that was in town, but she'd been expecting him to do so from back in England, sitting on a fancy arm chair and sipping his tea with his head buried behind one of the books from his 'personal collection'. And if he _did_ plan on popping back into town to make a big fuss of things like the rest of them were, Anya had expected to be informed of the fact well in advance, and be apologized to at least moderately for her silent business partner's lack of silence. Instead, she had arrived the other morning to find the place of her livelihood opened without her knowledge, facing off against a Giles-shaped burglar with a broom in hand and landing a few decent blows before she was actually made aware of the older man's presence in town. At that point she was frankly proud of the decently shaped lump she had caused to form on his head.

But her annoyance now didn't come with the man's general presence, after all she didn't have much personal against him aside from his lack of business acumen, even if he was currently egregiously intruding the privacy of her shop. It was that he was staying, that everyone was _glad_ he was staying, and that no one had even bothered to think of what Anya might have felt about the idea. No, instead she was just reminded of her unreasonableness whenever she complained about the arrangement – an accusation she still heartily refuted. She'd never expect them to actually listen to her if they had asked, of course, but it the fact that it hadn't even occurred to them to ask, and that Buffy had responded with "Why would I have done that?" when Anya had been angry at her not for asking. It felt like a slap to the face to the vengeance demon, and a sharp reminder that she was the outsider in the group. She had always been the outsider, ever since Xander had shattered her heart, and arguably long before then too. But just a few days ago, as they had sat in the Magic Box crying together and grieving for Willow, she had thought for a second that maybe she wouldn't be one anymore. That perhaps their shared pain could bring them together again, could remind them that her heart was still a little human.

But no. Even now, as she willingly let close to a hundred dark arts books hog up most of the apartment space, for their sake. Took on the massive target such a move put on her back when she could so easily have just walked away, for their sake. Advised them, helped them, worried for them as they faced a vampire she herself had no desire to harm. Spent countless nights thinking of ways she could talk the redhead down if it ever came to it, all for their sake. Even now. She was nothing but an outsider. And the man who had left them to face their personal demons for the last year was such a _saint_ …

Anya sighed as she turned the block from the Magic Box, starting to grow annoyed with her own irritability about this topic. She'd just started to consider a risky teleport back to her apartment – something she was now being monitored for after her 'misuse' earlier that week – when she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and an eerie call of magicks come to her attention. She could recognize the magicks anywhere, it was as if they cast a near invisible emerald tint into the air, accompanied by the sharp taste of metal on her tongue. The waves of magicks were soon accompanied by the feel of a presence some distance behind her, and Anya instinctively tensed. She felt more than heard the rhythmic tapping of boots; slow, calm, and attentive, like a lion casually eying prey. And yet, what Anya had felt was not a predatory probe of magicks, it was a call to her. This lion was only making itself known to her, reaching out to her, and it was now Anya's turn to decide how to answer…

 _"I can't touch her,"_ She'd said to Buffy, _"And I don't think I really want to…"_

And she didn't. She couldn't. Never in the way Buffy wanted, never with the confidence and maliciousness that the Slayer's plan would surely require. And never otherwise, either. She would never get through the layers of hedonism that protected the demon's heart, ever truly make her do anything she didn't already want. She couldn't change her. Not even a soul could _really_ change her... She was still, always, just Willow.

But as Anya prepared herself to ready a teleport – already forming an appropriate excuse – her mind trailed off to the defeated faces that were continually worn by her human friends, and the countless nightmarish daydreams that had occupied her thoughts the last few days. Nightmares involving red hair and lips colored in blood from familiar necks, and a useless teary demon left standing at the sidelines, carrying no power other than to watch it all happen.

She really didn't want to. But maybe… Maybe she would have to. For their sake.

Anya felt the fast, phantom thumping of a nonexistent heart in her chest as she came to a sudden stop, and waited. She heard boots continue towards her for a few more steps, eventually coming to a halt as well, still a respectable distance away. They stood in silence, with nothing but the sounds of the two demons uselessly intaking breath out of nothing more than habit. Willow was waiting, Anya guessed, checking to see if the vengeance demon had responded to her call, or had just chosen to stop willy-nilly. A handful of seconds passed in continued silence before Anya sighed in impatience. She really wasn't interested in wasting the rest of her night just for the demon to get over its social anxiety…

Her impatience was seemingly awarded, or perhaps punished, by the sound of a sharp object cutting through the air behind her, and Anya swiftly turned around to catch the thrown weapon in one hand. The blade stopped a mere inch from her face, and she could smell the strong scent of dried blood emanating from the tip. She frowned, already starting to regret her choice. This was hardly a way to greet a friend…

"Nice catch," came an amused response, and scarlet hair finally made its presence known, emerging from what seeming like thin air. The light grin the vampire wore was at a stark contrast to the grimace on Anya's face. "Hi." was all the apology the vampire offered for her behavior as she creeped closer. Her emerald eyes seem to come alight in the darkness, accentuated by the green turtle neck that peeked out from under a familiar leather jacket.

"You attacked me!" Anya replied, stunned. In all the possible scenarios she had contemplated for their next meeting, she hadn't really been expecting this. A part of her felt rightly threatened, maybe even a little frightened, but the halfhearted attack coupled by the smug grin worn by the vampire resulted in her feeling quite pissed off instead. "That's not a very nice thing to do, Willow." She growled in annoyance, her plans on handling the encounter with some 'finesse' now easily thwarted by her bad day somehow only getting worse. The vampire just shrugged in response, grin only getting wider as if in agreement, and gave an indifferent apology as Anya continued to grumble. This just seemed like a big joke to her, and Anya was not much of a fan of being attacked for fun. "Were to trying to kill me with…" she trailed, looking down at the dirty weapon in her hand, … _scissors?_

"Oh, come on, I'm not that stupid." Willow assured her with a roll of her eyes as she moved to perch herself against a nearby wall, still keeping herself at a safe distance as she observed Anya with keen eyes. The vengeance demon didn't know if she was impressed or sickened by the blade in her hands, a dilemma she had now started to associate with the redhead in front of her. In just a few days, her blunt store scissors had been transformed almost beyond recognition. Layers of dried blood and grime now thoroughly coated the metal, some making its way onto the handle as well. Anya even thought she saw a small chip in one of the blades, and shuddered to think what might have caused it. "Are you?" The demon suddenly asked in a low voice, ripping Anya from her unsettling examination. Anya looked up at the vampire in confusion, blinking for a few seconds as she struggled to recall what she'd been asked. The redhead's face was now devoid of any of the amusement it had held seconds ago, her eyes carefully watching Anya for a response.

Once the words reached her mind, the vengeance demon began to understand the coarseness of their introduction, and the mixed signals coming from the vampire's voice. It seemed that Willow wasn't quite sure what to make of Anya, just as Anya hadn't been sure of her in their last encounter. She was studying her, as Anya imagined she might have studied others in her human days, although probably without using as many weapons. This, at least, Anya had some ability to control. She knew what Willow was now, where she had been uncertain before. She was still Willow, a friend she cared for, but now also a dangerous one. One that scared her other close friends, with good reason. One she wanted to protect them from without wanting to harm either. One she wanted to reach out to. To understand. To help, even if she couldn't be helped. And she needed to tell the demon as much before any more misused stationary was hurled at her face.

Astute green eyes still studied her silently, probably waiting for a sign to pounce or relax. "Of course not," Anya scoffed at the question, a little offended at the thought, "Why do you think I let you trail along behind me long enough to attack?" She continued, holding up the scissors as if in evidence. The reminder of the attack, coming more so in the form of smell than sight, reignited some of her earlier irritation. "Which, once again, _very rude_." She reminded, wanting to be very clear on the boundaries of this relationship moving forward. Willow seemed to relax considerably at the words, even letting a small smile adorn her lips as her gaze softened. Anya's own frown lightening at the sight as she considered that her answer seemed to have mattered to the redhead. Perhaps she was a little touchable after all…

"Good. I like you…" Willow purred, coming a few steps closer. The tone would have struck Anya as almost predatory if the accompanying face hadn't been devoid of malice. Green eyes were twinkling slightly in a way she had only rarely seen at the Magic Box. Anya, a bit flustered by the redhead's admission, was just about to remind the vampire of her lack of interest in the fairer sex when Willow finally emerged into the light, causing the vengeance demon to pause in her thoughts. She was more than a little surprised to notice the slightest of dark rings under emerald eyes, just barely noticeable under pale skin. Anya hadn't known vampires were capable of being sleep deprived, and couldn't imagine what in the world was driving this one to being so. _Maybe Buffy really is getting to her…_ She wondered in distaste, not liking how much her friends were hurting each other. The demon's eyes tore away from Willow's face to examine the rest of her outfit, and her thoughtful frown immediately transformed into an amused smile.

"You really are a thief aren't you," Anya muttered, almost wanting to laugh at the sight. The leather jacket she had noticed a few minutes ago was indeed quite familiar, if a little oversized for the petite redhead. In fact, Anya could quite distinctly remember the feel of the material against her skin…

"Oh this," Willow motioned, shrugging at the jacket as if to nudge it back into place on her smaller body, seemingly unconcerned with how it draped off her loosely, "A bit of a temporary fix, for sure…" She allowed with a small sheepish smile, shrugging again, "I guess I kinda get my doppelganger's dress code now… Though the corset's probably a bit much for me." She added with a playful grin, "I still like to pretend to breathe. Kinda soothing..." Her grin turned into a thoughtful smile for a second as she furrowed her brows in contemplation, "Also, you know, important for the whole talking thing, I guess…" She mused under her breath. Her gaze seemed to look through Anya as she began to consider the logistics of speaking without breathing, and she grew engrossed enough to lift a hand to chin, before suddenly regaining her focus, and turning to Anya with a small frown. "And I'm definitely not a thief!" Willow exclaimed, seemingly slighted by the accusation, much to Anya's amusement, "Spike just left it lying around when he ran off… And I did get your scissors back!" She pointed to the object still held in Anya's hands, as if she would have to be reminded that they once belonged to her. "So really not much of a thief." She concluded, crossing her arms resolutely. Emerald eyes turned away from Anya, and Willow frowned in concentration once again. "Haven't we had this conversation before?" She muttered mostly to herself.

"I believe it was around the time you summoned a troll and trashed my shop," Anya answered, still amused by the slight rambling of the dangerous demon, starting to feel more at ease as she witnessed traces of the Willow she had once befriended. "And they're dirty!" Anya argued with a new frown, holding up the stationary in question, her irritation over the filthy scissors now quickly resurfacing with the growing familiarity of their exchange. "You defiled my scissors…" She repeated grumpily, unable to resist a small shudder as the scissors provided a nauseatingly sticky resistance when she tried to open them. "What did you cut with these anyway…" She muttered, her nose scrunched up in abhorrence, not quite sure if she wanted to be answered. As comfortable, even satisfied, as she normally would be with seeing the gore this blade had no doubt been used for, the mere thought of getting her hands involved in the actual process, rather than just thinking it, left a sickly feeling in her stomach.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" Willow grinned back, clearly enjoying the other demon's clear disgust for the object in her hands. Anya sense of familiarity deflated as some of the new Willow made her reappearance, the curious sparkle in her eyes replaced with a less innocent one, emerald now merging with yellow. "You want me to get you another pair?" She offered, extending her hand accept the object back, "I wouldn't mind. I actually kinda like these…" Anya almost shuddered again at the thought of the scissors being soiled any further, and silently decided she would much rather throw the pair away than live with the constant thought of what was being done with them.

"You know…" Willow mused once the decision had been made, creeping closer as she let her hand fall back to her side, a dangerous smile on her lips. "I was almost hoping you wouldn't catch them, to be honest." She admitted, eyes her dancing flames of gold. Anya watched the shift in the vampire's stance, along with her less welcoming words, her frown of disgust slowly turning into one of uneasiness. She'd hung around enough vampires through the years to become familiar with the ease with which threats were always made, but knowing it came natural to the redhead didn't really make it any less uncomfortable. "A splash of color from some demon blood is probably what it needs to make it pop, you know?" Willow continued with a casual grin, her voice inching lower with every word, "Red on red on red… needs some contrast after a while." She continued her slow tread toward the vengeance demon, who's stoic eyes betrayed none of the increasing stiffness of her shoulders. "And you _did_ take the rest of my books, you know…" Willow whispered from inches away, her grin suddenly vanishing into a stiff smile, as displeased golden eyes locked onto the other demon. Anya involuntarily tensed as the demon lowered its head to stop inches above her neck, delivering a final hot whisper in her ear, "That's a bit of a problem, Ahn. I _really_ needed those…"

 _Boundaries!_ Anya reminded herself, resisting the urge to jump from under the vampire's hot breath, _I thought we were clear on the boundaries!_

"Look, Willow." Anya started with a sigh, her voice not betraying how uncomfortable the demon's vague threats were making her, especially when combined with the more comfortable exchange they'd just had a few seconds ago. She wasn't truly concerned though, knowing that vampires typically shied away from demon violence, even if this one had greeter her with it. The vengeance demon forced steady hands to land on the vampire's shoulders, gaining some comfort through the feel of familiar leather under her finger tips, and pushed Willow back in one swift motion, moving her back to arm's length. "I get the whole macho evil villain routine…" The demon continued, the traces of unease in her eyes probably betraying her somewhat as the vampire raised a brow at her remark. "You vamps always go for the leather and the bad boy look and the annoyingly haughty threats…" She listed with the roll of her eyes and an annoyed sigh, "I swear it's like everyone's competing to be the next big evil… More than a little tiring, really." She met Willow's eyes with a stern look, pleased with herself at the surprise painted on redhead's face. "But this whole threatening me thing…" She concluded determinedly, "Not going to go too well if you want me to be your friend."

"Oh." Willow uttered in little more than a whisper, backing away a step with a stunned look on her face. The vampire took a few seconds to look away with a thoughtful frown, the fire in her eyes fading back to a familiar green. "I'm sorry. I wasn't-" She fumbled, turning to Anya with a slightly confused expression as she struggled with her words. "That was a joke… I-I think." She muttered with furrowed brows, running a hand through her hair and sighing in frustration. "I… can't really tell sometimes." Willow admitted, turned to her with unsure eyes and managing a small halfhearted smile. "I guess I was a little nervous…?" She tried with a shrug.

"And you accompany that with unsettling threats rather than your usual avalanche of words?" Anya asked with a raised brow, falling back into her comfort zone, but growing increasingly tired with the demon's Jekyll and Hyde routine. She hadn't quite seen vampires act quite this way in her previous social interactions – not nearly as awkwardly, at least – and she smiled at the thought despite herself. _I guess Willow will always be Willow…_

"Really though, it's not like the babble's much better…" Willow grumbled with an irritated frown, obvious frustrated at her fleeting display of what she might consider weakness.

"Well, stop it!" Anya insisted, wanting to be clear about what she would tolerate from the redhead. "Not the babble necessarily…" She allowed after a second, not wanting to admit that it was more than a little comforting to hear from the vampire. "But I don't take kindly to empty threats." Her stern expression returned, and she hoped the slow smile making its way onto Willow's face was a sign of her understanding, though it didn't seem likely when paired with the glint in her eyes.

"Oh?" The demon asked back in a whisper, her smile slowly fading into a smirk, "What if they're not empty, then?" Anya chose to just stare at her, less than amused, and the smirk quickly vanished a few seconds later, replaced by a pensive and apologetic frown. "This isn't going too well is it…" Willow ventured with a sigh, looking more than a little defeated as she crossed her arms and glared off into the distance.

That much Anya could probably agree with. _Well_ would have been a less emotionally taxing talk accompanied by a beer or two, but seeing as the other side of the spectrum would have resulted in Anya's scissors getting more colorful, she really wasn't one to complain with the current state of affairs. But as the redhead bid her farewell in her frustrated state, and the vengeance demon made her way back to her apartment, Anya decided she probably couldn't have expected a better encounter, sans the scissors. And that perhaps it had been worth some of the time spent, which she would rather have wasted in her waiting bed. And that maybe… some things were more than a little touchable after all…

* * *

Willow was more than a little surprised when she felt the vengeance demon's presence approaching her, responding to her call for the first time since their last encounter a few weeks ago. She hadn't really expected to see the demon now, had just chanced a call her way when she felt her nearby. But now, as she saw a silhouette make its way to where she was perched on a large tombstone, Willow felt a mixture of relief and anxiety. She'd been quite happy in avoiding Anya for a while now, feeling more than a little uncomfortable with their last meeting. Although she wasn't quite sure if she was upset at her 'haughty threats' having bothered the demon, or at the way Anya had managed to get under her skin.

For the first time since her rise, Willow had felt almost vulnerable under that gaze, something she hadn't been expecting to feel from any her old friends. She knew it was in part that the rest of them were humans; beneath her; her prey. She couldn't care less what they thought of her. Tara, maybe… But even Tara she thought she could control. Even Tara she could feel sinking to her will, signaled by that musical raise in her heartbeat. But Anya… Anya was beyond her. A legend, even if Willow hated to admit it. A thousand years stood against Willow's laughable 20, and the redhead could feel some part of her involuntarily assigning some seniority to that fact. But it was also who Anya was that made her valuable – a Scooby. A Scooby Willow wasn't too interested in harming, who didn't want to harm her either. It was a way in; beyond the glass of the living room window she had been peeking into every now and again. It was a friend on the other side. And also… a _friend_.

"What, run out of pointy stationary?" Anya quipped as she came into view, looking a bit disgruntled to be walking in a cemetery. Willow didn't really understand why she hadn't just teleported instead… "There're a lot left if you need ideas," She offered with a mask of indignance, though Willow could see in her eyes that she was more than a little pleased to be called, "Letter openers, pens… Could do some interesting things with a stapler I'd imagine." She listed absently, a frown forming on her lips as she no doubt imagined the mentioned objects in use, "Or you could just skip the middle man and bring me entrails," She muttered holding back a shiver, "Would probably be a lot less disturbing…"

Willow grinned at the demon, liking the sounds of her suggestions. She was suddenly glad she had decided to call on her now, a decision she had made only under the influence of her recent good mood owing to an encounter with Tara. She had expected Anya to act differently after how their last encounter had ended, to either ignore her call in reaction to her threats, or attempt to dominate her after her display of weakness. But instead, here she was casually standing before her, acting as Anya as she ever had. The thought came to Willow with a smile. She had forgotten who Anya really was in all of this mess. Forgotten that while she herself might have changed – and her perception of Anya had changed – Anya herself was still a constant. Anya was, at least in part, predictable. Anya was safe.

"Nah, too messy for me." Willow admitted to the other demon with a smile. She couldn't help a small chuckle at the skeptical look she received, no doubt owing to the arguably messy scissors from earlier. "I don't mean messy as in blood," Willow clarified, her body involuntarily buzzing as she thought of her sustenance, "I just don't like to dig much under the surface, you know?" She shrugged, "Too quick and too much cleanup; not much of a point."

The vengeance demon observed her for a few seconds with inquisitive eyes, mulling over her words, "No, that makes sense, I suppose." She allowed after a while, her posture relaxing, "I assumed with the scissors... But knowing you, it's probably just less efficient or something." She paused at that, as if affected by her own words, and some of the confusion reappeared on her face. Willow only observed her inquisitively, growing more and more curious to see what was happening in the demon's head. A part of her was pleased that she was able to confuse her so, even though it had never been too difficult in her human life, but another desperately wanted to attempt a probe into the demon's head, even at the risk of being caught. "Why am I here, Willow?" Anya asked suddenly, pulling the redhead out of her straying thoughts. She observed where Anya stood with crossed arms and a firm expression, not looking like she was much in the mood for games, and only smiled playfully in response.

Willow shrugged halfheartedly, tilting her head at her new acquaintance, "I don't know, Anya. You're the one who walked over here…" She grinned, "Never really figured the cemetery for being your scene." She continued to grin in the face of the unamused frown she received, but found it slowly thwarting the temptation of playfulness. She felt some of her excitement deflate, and frowned at the demon's stiffness. Willow was sure her words had been strictly of the non-threating variety, so why was Anya being such a spoilsport about it? She chose to half-glare at the demon for a few seconds, eventually giving in with a sigh, not wanting to ruin her good day this early. If this demon wanted her to stop playing then that's what she was going get. And she would just have to let Anya see on her own that a playful Willow was usually far more preferable to a serious Willow... "I guess I have some questions for you." She admitted, her voice now devoid of amusement. "Like I said. We don't have to be enemies."

"That's good, because I don't want that either, Willow." Anya answered with a small but sincere smile, oblivious to the drop in the vampire's mood. Willow wondered if she was going to spout the line about help again, the word she was constantly hearing in everyone else's minds. Her taut lips frowned and she felt fangs slightly protrude in displeasure. Everyone just wanted to _help_ … "I have some questions too I think," Anya continued instead, relaxing further to lean against a nearby crypt as she faced the redhead, "I believe it's a common method of increasing familiarity among new friends. Typically also involving some tradition using ice…" The demon trailed off thoughtfully, lost in concentration for a second before shrugging away the thought, "but we can just skip that part I'm sure."

Willow just raised a brow at the demon, not so amused by her typical unintentional humor, but couldn't help her curiosity at what the demon might ask her. She wondered if she might find the answer to the confusion that had been brewing in Anya's head earlier. "The books…" the vengeance demon started after Willow had egged her on, now moving closer to seat herself on the surface of one of the larger rectangular grave stones. "I don't understand why you left them," Anya clarified, her eyes locked onto Willow's with an inquisitive look, "You could've taken anything you wanted, really…" She trailed, silently referring to things other than books that could have been taken that night, frowning in slight confusion, "But you just leave with strange threats, without spilling a drop of blood," Her frown deepened in annoyance as she added, "Though there were some other bodily fluids that were spilled…"

Willow just shrugged, a little surprised that Anya had bothered to dwell that much on her behavior, and even more surprised that she bothered to ask about it. She could tell back at the Magic Box that Anya had some idea as to the power she had held, and that she had seen her overpower the Slayer at the end of their encounter. But she had just expected her to think the same of her actions that Buffy had. To assume that she had held back only to guarantee things worse than death. To assume that she was following the footsteps of Angelus, reveling in the pain before the kill. Willow smiled. She was almost glad that Anya thought otherwise. It was always nice to have someone bother to look past the obvious.

"Yeah, I could have." Willow allowed, looking away as she shrugged, "But I didn't need all the books. I still don't. I can probably last another month working through what I have…" She faltered a bit, knowing a month was more than a little optimistic now with her growing nightly visits to the Summers house. "And I didn't want it either." She finished, opting to ignore Anya's question about Tara, something the demon really wasn't in a place to question about. Willow frowned as the other demon continued to stress that she didn't understand, not feeling particularly interested by the topic.

"It'd just be too obvious, Anya. Too easy." She attempted to clarify, "I know you get it, how powerful I am, but Buffy doesn't. And if I had all the books…" Willow trailed, her frown deepening as she considered the thought. She sighed in annoyance as memories of Buffy's cowardice against Glory, before she had taken Dawn, came to mind. That was exactly what Willow didn't want… "I don't want Buffy to just give up. I don't want her to run." She continued, _…I want to see her squirm._ "I want her to fight. To _really_ fight. To think she _can_ fight…" _To see her shoulders sag more and more every time she tries. To be there watching as she finally realizes there's no point…_ Willow was grinning excitedly now despite herself as her thoughts wandered, her vision sharpening in a way that usually indicated the onset of her demon reemerging. Images of a despondent Slayer filled her mind. A tired blonde fruitlessly arguing for her friends to move out of town in her final fit of hopelessness; slowly watching as the others started to come to terms with the redhead's presence, believing that she meant them no harm. Maybe one day finding that she believed it herself…

And that was when the fun would start.

Willow knew it would take a while, that she would have to stay quiet while it happened, but time meant nothing when she had eternity. She could imagine herself silently pulling the strings behind their life once they had finally forgotten her… Hunting down each of Dawnie's crushes after their first kiss; throwing Xander's dates to be sired by vampire nests; visiting Tara's window every night until she caved in. And Buffy…

"I like to draw things out." Was all she said, forcing herself to suppress her grin back into a smile. "To be honest, I already feel like I pushed it a bit too far… She's not looking too motivated." Willow admitted playfully, recalling the defeated expression the Slayer had worn that night, as she napped on a pile of books on the dining room table.

"You probably did." Anya agreed, and Willow almost jumped at her voice, having nearly forgotten that the demon was still there. She noticed the demon seemed to have quenched her curiosity and confusion, probably concluding that Willow was looking for some semblance of fair fight. But really, Willow had never been looking for a fight… "I think it's mostly that they don't understand…" Anya mused almost to herself, "Which makes sense when it's never happened before. No one with that much magick was ever…" She cut herself off at that with a frown when she finally turned to meet Willow's eyes, as if finally realizing who she was talking to, and closed herself off from revealing too much. Willow smirked. She was fine with that. She already knew what drove them mad. She'd been inside their heads after all…  
"And then there's the whole junkie thing." Anya eventually continued with a shrug. Willow frowned at that and turned to her more attentively, not having overheard any such conversation. "I don't think it would've mattered much if you'd taken one book or fifty, or if you had been sired at all." She clarified, "They don't like you using the dark magicks..."

Willow let the words thicken the air around them. She hadn't thought of that. Thoughts of Tara now flooded her mind. Was this what had kept the other witch away from her? This dark magick, so at odds with the purity of Tara's magicks. Was this another obstacle she would have to cross before the witch gave herself to Willow? "But…" Willow's hated the vulnerability that coated her voice, but thoughts of her love overpowered her need to hide her weakness. "I don't really have a choice." She admitted with a worried frown, turning towards the vengeance demon with all the sincerity she could muster. She would have to tell Tara. Have to explain. Have to hope that the witch would understand. _And if she doesn't…_ Willow felt herself tense at the thought. She couldn't change… Not this. Anything but this. "It's the only thing I can use…" The whisper came.

Anya just stared at the vampire in confusion, starting to list off the number of natural magicks Willow could use instead, and the redhead sighed as she sensed the need to explain further. "The natural magicks, they're not..." Willow started, having trouble explaining exactly what she had felt during her very first attempt to cast, back in the morgue. "I can't really access them anymore." She continued, sighing again as she realized that wasn't exactly accurate either, "Well I _can_ , but… they're hard to control." Willow's frown deepened, "They don't _want_ me to control them…" She raised a hand palm-up to stare at her fingers, willing the natural magic to spark. When nothing emerged but a blinding ache in her fingers, she instead turned to the dark magicks, watching as the blackish blue sparks danced around her fingers. "The darkness is the only thing I can touch." She whispered, feeling the familiar buzz of the magicks in her body, not able to restrain the emergence of a sad smile on her lips, "The only thing that wants to touch me…"

When Anya stayed silent for another few seconds, Willow shook herself out of her momentary lapse of clarity, forcing a larger smile on her lips as she pushed back against the emotion brewing in her chest. "It'd be easier if I could." She admitted with a little shrug, forcing life back into her voice, "Less tiring. Less fighting to keep the magicks from taking over all the way." She turned to Anya with a smile, the demon in her immediately disgusted by the sadness and pity that Anya wore on her face, "But, you know," she continued casually, "creature of the darkness in more ways than one, I guess…"

Willow felt her still heart ache in the silence that followed, her teeth gritting as she continued to fight emotion. She wasn't meant to feel emotion. It wasn't hers to feel anymore. Wasn't that how it worked? She closed her eyes and sighed, wondering if the ache was just her heart's silent longing for a stake.

"I believe you, you know", Anya suddenly exclaimed, breaking Willow out of her exhausting thoughts. Willow frowned as she felt herself settle back into conversation, wondering how she had managed to make her good day worse. She asked Anya to clarify with a stiff voice. "That you're you," Anya explained with a smile, this time thankfully lacking in any pity, "That you're Willow." She continued in a soft voice, her smile vanishing as she became more earnest, "That you love her..."

Willow remembered why she had been avoiding Anya now. It was moments like this. Like when the demon had called out on her playful threats in their last meeting, making her feel insecure for the first time in her new life. Like when she had drawn her into a brief sense of security, getting her to admit her failings with light magick. Like now, when Willow felt like she could almost sob in blinding relief.

Anya had no right to moments like these. Willow had felt them before, at the Magic Box. Felt the rush of human emotion as Tara drew her out of her nearly violent outburst at Buffy. Felt it many times after that whenever she thought of or saw the brunette witch. Those emotions were Tara's to unearth. Tara's to witness. Tara's to cement with her blood. But Anya… She had no right to make Willow feel this way. Make her feel this human.

"Sometimes I don't…" And yet somehow the whisper came from her lips, barely audible to her own ears. She sighed at the admittance, adamant in her refusal to let the emotions manifest in the form of her tears. She felt the touch on her arm, and turned to see Anya standing next to her, encouraging her to continue. Willow nearly turned away at that moment out of how pathetic the demon in her felt. Looking so weak in front of someone she couldn't afford to show weakness to. But as she gazed into auburn eyes, she couldn't help but feel for a second that perhaps she _could_ afford to show weakness. That maybe she didn't need to put on, as Anya had called it, her "macho evil villain routine". That maybe Anya did have a right to these moments. That maybe… Anya was a _friend_.

"Believe it." Willow continued, not having the strength to look the vengeance demon in the eyes for fear of letting the liquid drip down her cheek, "Believe that I'm her… _Me_." She sighed as her voice shook, clenching her jaw to urge some strength back in her body. "I have… all these memories. All these emotions…" She whispered, trying her best to explain as she gazed off into the distance, keeping her voice low in hopes of keeping it stable. "But when I reach out to touch them…" She extended a hand into the air as if to demonstrate, clenching it into a fist. "Poof." She whispered, "Nothing."

"What if I'm not?" Willow asked to no one in particular, no longer able to stop her babbling lips now that she had started, "What if…" She gazed down onto the hands in her lap, bringing one up closer to her face. She stared at the palm, at the wrinkle lines that trailed in familiar patterns, at the hand she remembered being clasped in Tara's for a playful reading of her fortune. She stared for what felt like eternity, barely able to force out the words in the faintest of whispers, "What if she's dead, and I'm just… a _thing_?" She closed her eyes as her voice cracked, letting her hand fall back into her lap as she turned up to gaze at the empty sky, "Who am I?" She asked the Goddesses in a desperate whisper.

"You're Willow." Anya replied with the most confidence. Willow could only swallow the bulge of emotion that had gathered in her throat and sigh. "You're Willow because you like doing illegal things with your laptop, and learning about spells, and stealing from the Magic Box." Anya continued, sounding almost annoyed as she listed the human Willow's qualities, "And you like feeling powerful even when it frankly gets destructive…" The vengeance demon trailed off, and Willow felt the reappearance of a hand on her arm, and turned to look into Anya's understanding eyes. "And you're Willow because you question yourself." She whispered earnestly with a small smile, "Willow would do that." Willow felt the grip on her arm tighten reassuredly as she finally felt moisture touch her cheeks, "She would wonder if something was wrong with her even when it clearly isn't, while somehow likely ignoring the things that _are_ wrong with her..." Anya trailed off at the end again, seemingly forgetting her intentions to reassure the vampire, before shaking herself out of it and continuing, "Non-Willow, demon or human, wouldn't do any of those things."

Willow felt a smile emerge on her lips, even as they trembled slightly, and quickly wiped any evidence of weakness off her cheeks. She sighed, willing herself to not be ashamed of her outburst, and letting Anya's words sink in to clear a conflict that had been welling in her for weeks. "I don't really get why you help me." She admitted after a few minutes, finally having regained some of her composure.

"It's what friends do." Was all Anya answered with.

* * *

"I just don't get the scissors!" Anya suddenly exclaimed, slapping a hand on the table with a loud thud.

Willow raised a brow at her in confusion, feeling like her monopoly on sudden tangents was being threatened. She grinned as she smelt the scent alcohol on the vengeance demon's breath, making a note to have the waitress cut Anya off on her next run about. She herself wasn't feeling nearly as inebriated as her friend apparently was, feeling more than a little happy with Anya's decision to settle into the bar after the redhead's rather emotional moment. "You don't _get_ the scissors?" Willow repeated with a smile, preparing herself to dive into the unexpected turn of their discussion. The last hour or so of casual conversation had settled them both into a rather comfortable tempo, sometimes even talking about the most benign, boring things they'd forgotten to share back when they had both been human.

"Exactly," Anya continued in an exacerbated tone, growing more frustrated by the second, "You say you don't like messy, but your scissors are all… well, messy." She frowned at her own confusion, and Willow recognized the expression as the same one she had sensed earlier in their encounter, "And that would make sense with the blood that's wasted with getting messy, but your scissors are already messy!" She repeated, now nearly on the verge of yelling in the crowded bar as Willow winced at her tone, "So you're already wasting blood with the messy scissors, which doesn't make sense, because why don't you just go ahead and be messy, then?!"

"Okay," Willow whispered with a concerned frown, reaching for her beer, "You're getting cut off there, missy."

"I'm not drunk!" The next yell came.

"Yeah, I'm sure Ahn." Willow soothed with a little grin, "But see, we're not in a demon bar. Because, well, Willy." She motioned around the larger bar around them, and then at the semi-secluded booth they were seated in, "We're in a human bar." She whispered exaggeratedly, grin still in place, "And it's not really normal to be talking about blood at a human bar. So maybe you should just tone it down a little before it stops sounding like butchers' talk and starts sounding like vampire talk…"

Anya's frown lightened as she understood the words being whispered to her, and then suddenly deepened again, "Don't patronize me," She muttered, lifting finger at the vampire threateningly, but seemingly having come to her sense about the appropriate tone to use, "I _am_ older than you, you know…" Willow playfully raised her hands up in surrender, not taking the threat very lightly. She still didn't feel the inebriating effect of the alcohol as she downed the rest of her beer, feeling only a light buzz that calmed her, and wondered if it was just a predator thing. "And I still don't get the scissors," Anya repeated after a few minutes, now considerably soberer.

"It's not really about the blood," Willow answered with a shrug, trying to understand her own reasons as well. She understood the point Anya was trying to make, at least somewhat. The scissors that had been returned had been bloodied on more than one occasion. Blood that had been wasted, that could have been licked fresh off the blade. But Willow thoroughly enjoyed the look of metal rusting with blood… "When I do something like that, when I used the scissors, it wasn't about the blood… It's not considered playing with food if you don't eat it, right?" She continued with a grin, enjoying the curious attention being given to her by the other demon. "The blood's nice, sure," She admitted with a shrug, "It's warm, keeps me alive, feels good trailing down your chin... But that's just food, Anya." She smiled, pausing in her explanation as a barmaid came to refill her drinks, thankfully pulling Anya's empty glass from her side. "It's not fun." Willow continued with a thoughtful expression, "Killing's not fun either. It's too… _fleeting_. Too easy and quick to be satisfying..." She furrowed her brows and frowned at the thought of her first kill, fresh from the coldness of death. She had never been proud of that one, but she'd hardly had a choice then, feeling close to deranged with that early thirst for blood… "When they die, I'm done with them… That's why no messy."

Anya stared at her thoughtfully, head propped up on her hand, and finally let out a small smile, "Okay... I get it." She accepted, and Willow was glad she wouldn't be subjected to more half-drunk yelling, "Why go for the kill when you can go for the pain…" Anya quoted, "It's a motto D'Hoffryn likes to use for the vengeance," She trailed off in thought, the smallest of frowns appearing on her face, "Just… I suppose _we_ like to think they deserved it…" She whispered absently, her frown growing.

Willow didn't think the vengeance demon was frowning at her specifically, lost as she was in her distant gaze, but attempted to clear the air none the less. "Should I start doing background checks, then?" She joked with a grin, her amusement faltering when Anya's frown failed to lift.

"No…" She trailed with a small sigh, idly playing with a nearby napkin, "I think we usually follow that up by saying that _everyone_ deserves it…" She rolled her eyes at the thought.

"You don't like it much anymore do you?" Willow concluded, realizing her guess had been right with the sudden tenseness that arose in the vengeance demon's shoulders. "The human thing got to you…" She continued with a sad smile, feeling more than a little sorry for the other demon. Anya just sighed and gave a little shrug in agreement. "You know I'd probably kill Xander for you, right?" Willow offered lightly, instantly regretting the words as they only worsened the demon's tenseness, "I wasn't going to do anything to him before," She attempted to reassure, "but if you wanted –"

"No! No, that's ok." Anya interrupted hurriedly, and Willow's frown dimmed as she was reminded of the fact that she shared this friend with the people she was planning to hurt. "It's just that..." Anya trailed with a dejected sigh, "I miss that you know. Daydreaming about nice massacres... Feeling satisfied after a long day of vengeance…" A small smile emerged as she recalled those pleasant memories, but it quickly returned into its previous configuration of a frown. "Now it's just… complicated." She admitted angrily, throwing the napkin in her hand at the nearby wall, "I keep thinking, 'what would Xander think', 'what would Buffy think?'" She all but growled, "And do _they_ ever bother to think that? NO!" She sighed as the anger started to leave her, slumping back into her chair with a defeated frown, "And then Halfrek complains about how I'm not the great Anyanka anymore..." She continued in a low mumble, "And then it just gets upsetting."

Willow, feeling more than a little out of her element in comforting someone else of their evilness, hesitantly placed a hand on the demon's shoulder, waiting for her to meet her gaze. "Hey, everyone reaches a slump here and there." She assured with a smile, squeezing her shoulder, "You want me to give you a few wishes?" She offered, her smile slowly morphing into a little smirk as she whispered, "I can be _very_ descriptive with the nitty gritty…"

A small smile emerged on the vengeance demon's lips as she considered the offer, but dimmed just a few seconds later, "Well, it's no fun if you want it too." She grumbled with a small sigh, "The fun's in the twisting of the wish, you know?" She leaned her head back in her hand, lost in thought, "And I mean, you don't even have any vengeance." She continued to mutter, growing more and more against the idea, "And even if you did, hello, gay. I don't really do the whole girl thing…"

Willow resisted the temptation to argue with the demon for discriminating in her vengeance, and chose to just lightly smile instead, slipping her a beer that had just been handed to her. "Sorry." She smiled, trying to channel as much of her human empathy as she could, "But hey, you have a blank check here if you're ever feeling down."

"Thank you Willow." Anya smiled at that as she sipped at her booze. Willow was suddenly more than thankful that the demon seemed to have channeled out most of her anger, not looking forward to hearing any more of the drunken yelling from earlier, "That… That means a lot to me." Anya admitted sincerely, reaching out to awkwardly pat at Willow's shoulder.

"Hey," Willow smiled happily, watching Anya down her glass and signaling for another, "What are friends for?"

* * *

Anya sighed as she slipped her vacuum cleaner into the crack between her wall the massive stack of books in front of it, grumbling about the towers of paper that were invading her house. For some reason Giles kept insisting to move over more and more of the powerful natural magick books in the Magic Box as well, despite Anya's protest that natural magick was useless. Anya took a moment to stretch, wondering how in the world such a mundane task as cleaning could be an impediment to a thousand-year-old demon. She had just turned the vacuum off for a well-deserved break when she heard the distinct sound of her bell ringing, followed closely by a few knocks on her door. It was a Scooby signal Anya instantly recognized, and she was about to just tell them to come in when she recalled the recent lock change in the building. Great. Now she had to get Buffy a new key too. As if her days weren't growing more and more busy already with babysitting Giles at the Magic Box…

She grumbled as she made her way to the door, and paused just as she was about to turn the handle. Something was off here… She could almost feel the air around her simmer, not from heat, but from… vengeance? Anya raised her brows, but instantly calmed. That was a little surprising, Halfrek must have had _quite_ a busy day if she was so –

But it wasn't Halfrek who greeted her at the door. As Anya heard the door softy thud against the closest wall, for a few seconds she couldn't quite tell who it was that greeted her. She couldn't quite tell where she was. Or who she was. Or what was in front of her. All she could see was those eyes. Her entire world, surrounded by nothing but deep, piercing, black eyes.

She instinctively rushed to shut the door, not letting her brain think of much other than the seething hatred she could feel from those eyes, but found she couldn't quite move. She breathed. In. And out. Thinking that it must be the fear that was stilling her. But as she looked more clearly at the figure, focusing around the eyes at that striking red hear, now smattered with the occasional black strand, and then back at the sharp gaze of those black eyes, she realized the fear was the last thing that was stilling her.

"Stay," A familiar voice breathed in a dangerous tone that was far from familiar. Anya gulped as a small insincere smile creeped onto those lips, accompanied by the smallest tilt of her head. "We're all friends here…" Willow purred.

"Willow…" Anya whispered, finding herself just mobile enough to make the necessary motions to talk, "I don't know… what happened." She croaked, "But you… need to calm down." The increase of black strands in her hair informed Anya that that had not been the smartest thing to say.

"Oh, I'm calm." The vampire assured her, smile still in place, "In fact, I think I would probably have killed you by now if I wasn't so calm..." Anya felt her body being dragged closer to the door through the vampire's magicks, stopping close enough so that Willow's cold hand could clasp at her cheek, and whisper inches from her face, "Do you know _why_ I would have killed you, Anyanka?" Willow asked tonelessly, her eyes seemingly sucking the soul out of the demon. It was all Anya could do to weakly shake her head. "Because you _lied_ to me." Willow spat venomously, her grip on Anya's cheek now moving to clasp her throat, "You lied _about_ me." She continued to hiss as her grip tightened. The grip on her throat, while not lethal as the demon had no need to breath, was more than a little uncomfortable, and gave Anya no chance to defend herself. She attempted a few voiceless croaks, until the grip tightened to stop even that much sound from escaping, now frighteningly close to be able to snap her neck, which would also be horribly painful.

Anya wished she had some idea of what she had done to upset the vampire, but she felt more than a little confused. She hadn't seen Willow since their second, and last, meeting at the cemetery. And she distinctly remembered that one ending well with an unwise amount of beer and dancing. So why in the world was her _friend_ replacing her empty threats with very tangible ones?

"You're all the same," Willow continued to hiss, her eyes now beginning to glow red in rage, "You pretend you care, but you're just using me…" She shook her head, letting out a humorless laugh, " _Friend._ You had me going there for a while, you know." Her jaw clenched as her grip on Anya weakened, and she looked almost sad as the anger began to fade. "You really had me going there…" She murmured almost to herself.

Anya found herself dropped to the floor of the hallway leading to her apartment, and gasped to breath out of instinct. She knew if she spoke now it would only come out as a hoarse whisper, and she was not in the mood to be silenced again. She rubbed at her neck, sure it would leave a mark, as Willow began to pace the hallway.

"Angelus, Angelus. _Everyone_ thinks I'm Angelus…" The vampire snarled as she paced, suddenly stopping in front of Anya and magickally raising her to her feet to look her in the eyes, "But I'm not Angelus, Anya." She whispered softly as she met Anya's cheek with a cold caress, her expression devoid of emotion, "Angelus was too soft. Too boring. You don't _deserve_ Angelus." Her lips curled into a smile, and all the crimson that remained in her hair turned black, "I'll give you all something you deserve…" Willow promised in an icy whisper, her smile turning into a deranged smirk as she leaning in, her lips almost touching Anya's ear. "You want to know what it is you deserve, Anya?" She asked with the same sensuality that might accompany a declaration of love, but there was nothing but anger and coldness coming from her body. "You deserve a slow burn," She murmured, her lips now trailing down Anya's neck, "You deserve for me to make it last…" Anya closed her eyes as the vampire reached the equivalent of her pulse point, feeling powerless in her paralysis, and wondering what in God's name she might have done to deserve the Hyde she was getting.

Willow leaned back to a more comfortable distance, keeping Anya in her upright position as she observed the vengeance demon. "Angelus was all about the killing…" She mused, the anger now having left her eyes, replaced by nothing my calm malice, "He was all about the momentary satisfaction of just snapping a neck…" She smiled, and Anya thought back to the little she knew of the vampire that was being mentioned, recalling some of the things he had claimed to have done to the Scoobies. "He was _so_ obsessed with everyone knowing how much he was fucking with them." Willow rolled her eyes, her expression returning to nothingness as she continued to stare intently into Anya's eyes. "It won't be like that with me," She promised in a whisper, "I'll make it _silent_. Like the world is caving in on you, and you don't have a villain to blame…" Her words continued to go lower and a small smile emerged on her lips. "That's what I want, Anya…" She sighed, her smile still on her lips, "And for a while I'd been hoping you'd be there to watch me do it. But it looks like you'll just be joining the rest of them now, and I won't have an audience..."

Willow just gazed intently at her prey, letting the ensuing silence seal her promise. Anya opened her mouth to whisper once she gathered the physical and emotional strength to do so. "You know, there are better ways to kill a vengeance demon than choking them." She managed to gasp. Anya nearly jumped at the ensuing laughter from the vampire, and started to regret her words, hoping the vampire wouldn't repeat the mentioned action. As it was, she wasn't sure if her larynx would be capable of long periods of speech for at least a week…

"Oh Ahn," Willow smiled, "Haven't you been listening?" She shook her head at the other demon, her smile slowly vanishing, "I'm not going to _kill_ you." She shrugged, "I'm just going to make it a bit… easier." Anya felt the pull of magicks recede from her body, and she struggled to keep herself upright without them. As she managed to maintain her upright position, she found the vampire gazing at her intently, this time with only inquisitiveness in her eyes. "You don't even know what you did, do you?" She asked in a sad whisper. Anya didn't. She still wished she had some clue as to what had managed to piss the vampire off to such an extent, but couldn't even recall the last time she had mentioned her to the Scoobies, let alone anything about her _lying_ about the redhead. "You betrayed me, Anya." Willow explained with a frown, "You told them _I_ did it. That I might have done it…" She trailed off as she looked into the distance, her expression now laced with pain, "You told _her_ that I did it…" She whispered, her voice trembling.

Tito.

Of course! God, how could Anya have been such an _idiot._ _Of cours_ e, it was Tito!

"Willow," She started, attempting to fix the damage now that she knew what had caused it, "I'm sorry. I-I'm sorry I assumed that was you, I just thought…" She trailed as black eyes trailed back to land on her, her legs suddenly threatening to buck under her, "I really thought, w-with the _'I'll kill Xander for you'_ and the _'pain before the kill'_ , and then Tito disappeared…" Anya breathed deeply through her mouth, attempting to calm herself. She had never felt this intimidated in her vengeance days, not by any being other than D'Hoffryn. And never in a million years by a _vampire_. And yet, somehow, this vampire was growing closer and closer in power to D'Hoffryn himself… "I'm sorry. I was wrong to bring that up." She apologized sincerely, not wanting to turn such a new friend into an enemy, "They really, _really_ never listen to me, you know…" She tried.

Willow stared at her for a few seconds, and slowly smiled at her with what appeared to be understanding. "I get it, Ahn." She accepted, sighing as her smile faded, "But I can't trust you... You get that, right?" She looked at her with sad eyes, shaking her head in pity, "I really liked you…" She muttered, "I thought you were my friend. _A_ friend." Willow closed her eyes, taking in a few breaths to calm herself before turning her gaze back to the vengeance demon before her. "But you're not." She finished, resolve clear in her eyes, "And you have no right to anything I shared with you anymore…" Anya briefly remembered something along the lines of dead men not telling tales, and momentarily questioned Willow's promise not to kill her.

But all Willow did was reach into her pocket and return with a small flower in hand, gazing at it with sad, tired eyes. "So I think…" She whispered, looking like she was nearly on the verge of tears as she twirled the little flower around in her fingertips, "We should just put it all behind us. And forget about it…"

* * *

 **A/N:** So here endeth the two interlude chapters, which I hope didn't end up too contrived, and we'll be back into the thick of it with then next one. We're nearing the crescendo of this first arc of the story pretty soon so look forward to that (but still a looong way to go till we're done). I just hope I pull it off as well as it's brewing in my head.

Not gonna lie, this chapter gave me a _lot_ of trouble, mostly with just exploring and trying to understand the new relationship dynamic and letting it develop naturally. It also ended up being far, far longer than I intended, but really, that's just me. Plus there were no Chapter breaks I really liked (and I also really didn't want to have _three_ interlude chapters). Also as for the last scene in the chapter, _Tito_ is one of Xander's construction worker friends, mentioned in _I Was Made For You_ , I believe. I don't blame you for not knowing that, I'm just crazy. As for how that information was revealed to Willow and why exactly she's so upset about it, we'll see in the upcoming chapters... Also I know I've kinda hinted at some behind the scenes interactions between Willow and the Scoobies (notably Tara) but don't worry that's also coming up in the future. I'm not gonna just leave y'all to imagine the Tillow goodness...

Also, _yes_ that's Spike's jacket, and I agree with Willow that it's a temporary fix. You can just pretend that that's the only scene she'd wearing it in if you want, I don't mention it but I'm pretty sure she just replaces it with a regular jacket in my head-canon, so that can be your head-canon too! Or not, if you like the idea of an huge jacket on a tiny woman, it's up to you really. I'm not tryna turn her into him, no worries. Vamp Willow is fun enough in her own right. (Also if we're being anal about sticking to canon, he technically doesn't seem to take it with him in _Seeing Red_ and doesn't actually wear it again until _Get It Done_.)

Also I know I'm taking some liberties with vengeance demons (no hearts, no need to breath, general lack of physical power) but since they're not very greatly explored in the show there's not much to refute any of this. Only relevant examples I can recall are the sword through the chest not being lethal in _Older and Far Away_ and _Selfless_ (which can arguably support the heart thing) and the sharp gasp Anya takes in _Selfless_ after being stabbed (which, you know, kind open to interpretation, but can refute the breath thing). But really this is just me geeking out over irrelevant stuff that was mostly just added for flavor text and won't matter in the long run...

 **Feel free to review, I'd love the feedback. God this chapter went through so many false starts and reedits that I can hardly form an opinion anymore. Writer eyes... Anyways, please let me know what you thought! If you think the chapters are too long** (this was like 11k words, Goddess) **let me know too, cause it's bound to get long sometimes. Also let me know if you have any pointers on the characterization, I feel like I might've pushed things a bit this time...**


	7. The Mundane

**A/N:** I'm not a big fan of overusing flashbacks, mostly more of a dreams kinda writer. But this one does have a back flashing flashback, just to let you know.

* * *

 **:: Chapter 7** : The Mundane **::**

* * *

Tara's eyes were lost in the hypnotizing spirals of brown and creamy white that were swirling in front of her. Her fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, making complex patterns with the teaspoon until the swirls of brown and white mixed into a uniform color. At which point her other hand would mechanically pour in more creamer, anxious to return to the dancing colors in her coffee mug.

She felt a hesitant touch block the recent trek of her hand, the Coffeemate held in place above her cup, tilted just a few degrees short of spilling into the abomination she had created. "Um, Tara?" It was Dawn, Tara realized. And for a few seconds she could do nothing but blink as her eyes shifted away from the light brown liquid in her cup, now so close to overflowing, and turned to take in the kitchen she had been sitting in. Her butt hurt, she realized, like she'd been sitting at the kitchen island for an eternity, and her neck was more than a little stiff from her stillness. The hand holding up the creamer started to shake lightly, and Dawnie reached up to ease it back down on the island, regarding her with caring eyes and a concerned smile when Tara finally turned to face her. "I think you ended up making coffee-flavored milk rather than coffee-flavored, um, coffee…" Dawn tried to grin at her, taking the creamer from her hands and stowing it back on the kitchen counter.

Tara blinked again for good measure before turning to her cup in mild horror. "Goddess," She gasped, pulling away from the spoon in her grasp like it was hot enough to burn, shaking her head in confusion as her mind made its way back to reality, "I-I didn't realize… I must have zoned off." She whispered, regarding the milky mess in her cup and turning to Dawn with an apologetic frown, "Do we have enough coffee for another cup, I know I forgot to get some…" She hastily moved to head towards the cupboard that housed their coffee mixes, sighing when she found them empty save for Buffy's morning cup. "Goddess, I'll just have to make Xander some tea." Tara muttered, biting at her thumb nervously. She was blushing at the realization that she'd probably made herself look like an idiot, spending who knows how long working on a cup that the carpenter had only accepted at her request. She nearly jumped when she felt a touch at her shoulder, relaxing as she turned to see Dawnie's smiling eyes.

"Xander kinda took off," Dawn explained sheepishly, "But don't worry!" She grinned cheerfully, obviously trying to wipe the guilty look off the older woman's face, "I'm sure the coffee's just un-coffee enough for Buffy to let me have some in the morning." Tara couldn't help but smile as Dawn maneuvered to carefully fit the cup into the fridge, a commendable endeavor with how close to spilling it already was, "I-It can be like my morning glass of milk," She continued, starting to grow excited by the idea herself, "except technically not milk… b-but better than milk! Cause the creamer tastes pretty good…" She trailed, looking more than a little guilty at the admission of liking the Coffeemate, and Tara let out a chuckle at the uncharacteristic nervous babble she had seemed to inherit from a certain redhead, even as her heart freshly ached at the comparison.

"You've been sneaking in extra sips from the creamer haven't you?" Tara asked knowingly with a teasingly stern voice, not able to keep a small smile from coloring her lips as she recovered from the earlier episode, "Don't think I don't notice you sneaking a spoonful into your milk in the mornings…" She grinned with a raised brow, and Dawnie just blushed in response, giving a sheepish grin back when she realized she wasn't being reprimanded by her closest friend. "And what do you mean Xander took off?" Tara asked after a few seconds of silence, frowning in confusion as she glanced outside the kitchen window, "It's almost nighttime!" She exclaimed in surprise.

"He'll be fine," Dawn assured her, though there was some doubt in her voice, "Buffy's with him. He said he needed to pick up some clothes or something. I think he's running out of socks…" Dawn trailed with a thoughtful frown, "Or maybe other things…" She shrugged with a smile, "You know how he is with laundry."

"I'm starting to," Tara admitted with a smile of her own, leaning back against the kitchen counter. It had been a bit over a week since the fellow Scooby had settled himself into their house, taking claim to the living room couch and some of the closet space in the storage room, and his peculiar laundry habits, or lack thereof, would have been hard to miss. Thankfully, Tara mused, it hadn't quite begun to feel crowded yet in the Summers house, save for the few days Mr. Giles stayed with them when he had first arrived. After all, they had lost one to gain one…

Tara's eyes drifted out of the kitchen window again as she watched the twilight fade into darkness, her betraying mind wandering to thoughts that she still had trouble escaping. The brunette wondered where her lover was at that moment. She wasn't nearly brave enough to imagine _what_ she was doing, knowing the answer was probably not for the faint of heart, but she couldn't help the thoughts of red hair and beautiful, emerald eyes. And those soft hands that had cupped her cheek so delicately before…

"You wanna watch a movie?" Dawn suddenly asked, breaking Tara out of her trance. As she turned towards her younger friend, she felt a tear fall that had been slowly building up during her pensive musing. She attempted a smile and wiped the moisture away as inconspicuously as she could, but the sadness in Dawn's smile proved that she had seen it long before Tara herself had felt its presence.

"Sure you don't have homework?" Tara asked, knowing it was nearing exam season for the young student, but even to her the words sounded less like a serious question and more like a silent plea for companionship. She smiled when Dawnie shook her head, and encouraged her to go pick a movie for the two of them. But when Dawn moved, it wasn't in the direction of the living room. Instead the smaller girl inching towards Tara, her smile slowly sliding off as she engulfed the witch in a tight embrace. Tara gasped at the suddenness of the contact, but only took a second to hug back, clutching at the girl desperately as she held back her tears. Tara had learned it was easier to contain them like this, with someone she loved holding her in their arms, though in this case she was more so holding Dawnie in hers. She let only a soft gasp of grief escape, fighting against the pain she had seen the others slowly rise above; pain that still brew as intensely as ever in her chest. _And in Dawnie's…_ Tara realized as the shorter girl refused to weaken her grip even after Tara had indicated her readiness to let go. She caressed her fingers lovingly through Dawn's hair, feeling a mother's compassion for the teenager, not for the first time in their friendship. Even as her own grief threatened to cave in on her heart, she knew if she could sweep up the other girl's pain and take it as her own, she would do it in a second.

Another ten minutes, half of which were spent locked in embrace, saw Tara snugly seated on the couch, a blanket draped half over her as she waited for Dawnie to decide on a movie and claim her place under the other half. They eventually settled on an X-men movie, one of Xander's favorites that she recalled seeing previously on an uneventful night, as Dawnie was mindful to avoid anything in Willow's prized collection. Tara was almost tempted to ask her to just plop in one of Willow's favorite romcoms, wanting to just rip the bandage off and spend the rest of the night letting out tears she had been allowing to fester in her attempt to stay strong. But this was better, Tara decided as the credits started, smiling as a head nestled against her shoulder. This was safe. This was what they needed now. Tara planted a light kiss on the younger girl's hair, and rested her head against it as well, her smile widening. They needed safe…

* * *

 _Tara was surprised by how much she was enjoying the movie, knowing when they had settled in for the group-hang-time that it was a genre she typically didn't enjoy. But, to be honest, she knew she could even watch a foreign movie without subtitles and find it interesting if she had a certain redhead curled up against her as she did now. Tara turned to her lover now as another action-y scene started, hypnotized by those green eyes flickering between characters as the other girl attempted to follow the action. She couldn't help but grin as the redhead's facial muscles twitched into the slightest frown of concern as her favorite character no doubt took a hit. Yes, Tara decided, she could definitely get used to watching this movie…_

 _The redhead's gaze shifted to hers as Tara moved to make herself more comfortable in her new favorite pastime. Willow smiled curiously as she watched the eyes trained intently on hers, "What're you looking at?" She asked in a whisper, inching closer as she did so, as if trying to shield the rest of the Scoobies from the distraction. Tara decided she would probably like their next movie to be in a similarly crowded spot if this was the reaction it was going to produce._

 _"Hmmm…" Tara mused with a wide smile, "A very pretty girl…" She whispered back, leaning in to nuzzle her nose against the redhead's for effect, sighing softly at the intimacy of the lightest touch. She blushed lightly at the public nature of the exchange, but the brilliant smile it produced on her lover made it all more than worth it._

 _"Oh, I got demoted, huh?" Willow grinned mischievously, raising a brow in fake indignance, "I'm pretty sure last night I was classified as being 'gorgeous'…"_

 _"Sweetie," Tara chuckled, her blush brightening at the memories her lover was triggering, "You'll never be demoted from being anything but 'positively sexy'." She whispered the last words a bit nervously, unable to keep traces of her demure nature from resurfacing, even as she felt more confident than she ever had earlier in her life. She was pleased to see the light blush she had produced on Willow's cheeks, and her heart quickened as her lover's lips curled upwards in a smile that was less innocent._

 _"Mmmm, and don't you forget it, mister…" Willow whispered as she leaned upwards to catch her lover's lips. Tara was happy to oblige, having been drawn to those rosy lips for the last hour of their movie night. She had even taken longer than necessary in refilling their popcorn, hoping the redhead would follow her to the kitchen and sedate her growing need. It had been almost a month since they had reunited, but Tara felt like even a year of passion would never be enough to fill the emptiness she had felt in their months apart…_

 _"Alright, tongue wrestlers, knock it off!" A sudden irritated yell exclaimed, succeeding in their attempt to break the lovers apart, though not without considerable reluctance. Willow turned to raise an annoyed brow to the interrupter, who had turned out to be none other than Anya, and Tara only blushed a deeper shade at the attention they had unwittingly managed to receive. "What? I'm just concerned for the state of Xander's eye sockets!" Anya defended, much to the chagrin of the carpenter, who turned an interesting shade of pink and rushed to deny any such accusation, eager to remind them of his respect for his best friends' privacy. "Yeah right," Anya snorted, and Tara was more than a little surprised at the vengeance demon's apparent display of jealousy, seeing as the two were still on less than stellar terms, "Your mouth was about 3cm wider than it was when you saw that strange blue demon lady in the movie!" Anya huffed, and Tara struggled to recall the character she was referencing, landing on a name along the lines of Mystic or Mystique…_

 _Willow chuckled beside her, thoroughly enjoying the carpenter's wordlessness, and Tara was more than tempted to tease the redhead back. "I don't think you were too innocent on that count either, pretty girl." She raised a brow in feigned insult, watching in amusement as the smile quickly faded from her lover's lips, replaced by the look of a baby caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "I think your eyes were a bit south in that scene…" Willow joined her oldest friend in the hot color of her cheeks, which looked unbelievable adorable to Tara when coupled with the fiery red of her hair. "Do I need to invest in some body paint to keep you satisfied?" She teased some more._

 _"Wha– No! I mean, I wasn't– I mean, I **was** , but I wasn't– Though to be honest…" Willow's eyes trailed off and partially glazed over as a small smirk crawled onto her lips, no doubt contemplating the results of Tara attempting to copy the mentioned character. She immediately shook herself back into her babbling state, growing more and more nervous with every word, "Uh, No. That's not what I mean either. You don't need to– I mean, not that it would matter if you did! I'd love you even if you were a weird scaly demon. N-Not that you are! I mean, of course you aren't. You're human, and beautiful, and amazing, and that's fine! I-I don't mean fine like **fine** , I just mean…" With her eyes the size of saucers and her cheeks redder than Tara could ever remember, she turned towards the others, urging them to pull her out of her less-than-helpful babble, "Xander, this is the part where you **help**." She hissed at her laughing friend._

 _Tara struggled to contain her own laughter at the exasperated look her lover wore, and let out a few betraying chuckles, signaling the redhead in on the scam. "You vixen!" Willow exclaimed with a grin bright enough to light up the dark living room. She didn't waste a second in closing the gap that had formed between the two lovers during her extensive babble, and for a second Tara feared she would be subjected to the punishment of tickles. But instead the redhead just curled up to her like before, leaning in to whisper in her ear, "Oh, I'm gonna get you for that one!" She promised hotly, causing Tara's heart to increase its pace once again, "Preferably with some chocolatey goodness of the body paint variety…"_

* * *

Tara was good at hiding the tears. That part wasn't so hard. The darkness of the living room, dimmed to create a home theatre-y vibe, and the distracted teenager beside her only made it easier. The tears were easy. But as the movie went on, and Tara's mind wandered to edible body paints and long, sticky nights, she found she couldn't quite control the quickening breaths that usually signaled her sobs. She focused on the images before her, made herself picture where the pixels lay on the TV screen, but the lid on an unopened box of memories had now been opened, and there was no going back. She realized with her first sob, that even the most uneventful nights of the past had turned miraculous now, even the most mundane experience made painfully beautiful. All because she had spent those moments in the loving warmth of a woman she could never hold again…

She realized she had let go almost a minute after the sobs had already started, long after Dawn had smothered her in her embrace, eventually joining her with her own tears. The movie lay unwatched, and Tara felt her body shake through the embrace with the force of almost painful sobs. A distant part of her, some fragment of her brain that somehow still functioned despite the pain, was glad they had avoided Willow's movies, when even a neutral one made her feel like she could die in Dawnie's arms. She didn't know how long they lay there as one memory after another trailed its way under Tara's eyelids, replaying the last few months of bliss that she would never experience again. When the pain next ebbed enough to allow her to think, she found that the tears in the teenager's eyes had seemed to drain, and Dawn was now just holding Tara onto herself, humming to her reassuredly and trying her best to ease her pain.

"Dawnie…" Tara whispered, her voice breaking despite her attempts to keep it steady. The teenager only continued humming, assuming that Tara was only mumbling in her outburst of grief. Tara forced her limbs to obey her as she pushed Dawn away from her the slightest, her heart aching as she look into the girl's bloodshot eyes. "Goddess, Dawnie…" She whispered, wanting nothing but to sink into the embrace once more, "I'm the one who should be comforting _you_ …"

Dawn managed a small smile in response, and Tara moved to wipe the remnants of tears on the girl's cheek, running a hand through long hair. "You are. You do." Dawn reassured her with her teary smile, "Just by being here…" She inched closer to bury herself halfway into Tara's neck, this time in seek of comfort. Tara wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulder, slipping into their previous position, even as silent tears continued their trek down her cheeks. "It reminds me that… That I'm not the only one who misses her." Dawn whispered, so low as if she feared the walls might hear. Tara squeezed her shoulder, and reminded her that they all missed the redhead more than they could bear. "But, Xander and Buffy…" Dawn started with a frown, an angry edge clear in her voice beyond the sadness, "They're both acting like, like it doesn't even matter that she's–" The girl's voice broke at that, and she closed her eyes as she struggled to continued, "And that all that matters is making her go away _for real_ …"

Tara's heart broke listening to the words, seeing her own loneliness in grief reflected in the younger Summers girl. She would be blind not to feel it too. Buffy, Xander, Giles… all focused exclusively on the threat brought to them by the emergence of a new powerful vampire. She was glad for them. Glad that they could focus on the danger to drown away the pain, to feel okay. But Tara didn't have that luxury. She need only open her eyes to find something, anything, that reminded her of the love of her life. She was stuck here, in this house, in her room which was not truly hers. Stuck with her pain and grief and the torture of sweet memories. Stuck with nowhere to let it out, but a foreign pillow in the late hours of the night, or against the shoulder of a Scooby on the rare occurrence she let her guard down. But even that had been taken away from her. She could see how uncomfortable her tears made them, how much harder it made it for them to ignore their own pain, the hesitance that came with comforting hugs, the guardedness that came with their words. They had closed the door on their grief, taken off to where she couldn't follow. She was left alone with the pain. And so was Dawn.

"Dawnie," Tara tried to reassure the girl, collecting her into an embrace, "Buffy's just trying to protect us, Dawnie..." She whispered the words that had become her mantra, willing her mind not to stray to thoughts of _what_ she was protecting them from. "This is hard for her too." She assured the girl who was now shaking her head violently in the embrace. "She loves us." Tara whispered, her voice breaking, "She loved Willow…"

"But we don't need to be protected…" Dawn argued in a small, hopeful voice. "It-It's Willow. We-We've done this before, right?" The girl pulled back from the embrace, and pleading doe-eyes stared up at Tara, almost triggering a new wave of sobs with their innocence and hope. "We can help her. I know we can..." Dawn whispered, almost trying to convince herself as much as Tara. And then in a soft whisper that couldn't help but crack near the end, "I still love her…"

"Goddess, I know Dawnie," Tara murmured against the girl's hair, capturing her in another embrace, gently rocking them back and forth, trying to steal some comfort of her own from the sweet girl in her arms. "Me too… So much." She whispered hoarsely, "So much I can't _breathe_ , Dawn." Tara felt a sob making its way up her body, but urged it to stay down, knowing that if she didn't utter the words now, she never would. "But she's gone…" She murmured, her voice something between a cry and moan, coated in agony. She breathed labored breaths, forcing herself to resist the urge to bang her head against a wall in search of unconsciousness. "She's gone…" She whispered, losing her voice somewhere along the way, so that even while her lips moved, the words never quite reached her ears.

"She's not. She's not." Dawn insisted even as her own sobs worsened, pleading in a voice that far more resembled that of a 10-year-old than a 16-year-old. She didn't fight back against the embrace any longer, seemingly having given up on continuing her painfully futile argument. "She's still here…" Dawn murmured, pleading the Goddess for mercy.

"If she was, then why are we crying for her, Dawnie?" Was all Tara could say before the sobs finally tightened their hold on her once more.

* * *

Tara held her breath for a few seconds, making sure the rhythmic exhales she heard in the darkness resembled the slow, relaxed breathing of deep sleep. Once satisfied, she carefully pried herself out of the grip of Dawn's cuddle, smiling as she heard soft moans of protest from the younger girl. For a few seconds, she just sat at the edge of the girl's bed and stared at her, vowing to erase the pain she had neglected to see till now. Tara lightly stoked a few strands of hair off the resting face, and left a small kiss of goodnight on her forehead, hoping the teenager wouldn't be too upset with her for leaving for the warmth of her own bed after cuddling and crying her to sleep. She made sure to tuck the covers around Dawnie before she left, lifting the edge away from where it had engulfed one of her feet, something Dawn always complained made her feel like she was "suffocating". Tara shook her head with a content sigh as she took in the sight of the blissfully sleeping girl, still not quite understanding how having your feet covered while you slept could contribute to suffocation.

Tara closed the door behind her carefully as she left, being quite practiced in this entire endeavor after many nights of tucking the girl to sleep in the summer after her sister's passing. As her mind continued to linger on those torturous weeks before the funeral almost a year ago, she nearly yelped as she bumped into an unfamiliar figure on the way to her bedroom, instinctively readying herself with a protection spell. The words had just barely touched the witch's lips as she heard the flick of the light switch, and saw the apologetic face of the woman that had just been occupying her thoughts.

"God, Tara, I'm sorry." Buffy whispered, trying not to make a ruckus so close to Dawn's room, "I thought you two were asleep," She smiled sheepishly, "I-I was just a bit distracted, sorry. I should've sensed you there…" The blonde let out a long, frustrated sigh, beckoning Tara further down the hall so as not to disturb the only sleeping person in the house.

"She is," Tara answered once they were clear of the risk of waking Dawn. She smiled tiredly at the slayer, noticing the gear that adorned her figure. "Patrol?" She asked, and was answered by an equally tired smile.

"I needed to take my mind off… things." Buffy said cagily, not quite looking Tara in the eyes. Her gaze returned after a second, and she attempted to shake off any evidence of her curious behavior, "But, yeah, patrol." The Slayer smiled, "You guys have an okay night?" She asked lightly, her smile dimming the slightest as she looked at the witch more clearly, "Tara… you alright?" She asked again in a lower whisper, no doubt noticing the redness that lined Tara's eyes.

"Yeah, it was a good night." Was all Tara answered with, her smile not quite making it to her eyes, "W-We watched a movie." She offered, relaxing as the answer produced a wider smile from her friend. Buffy asked again if she was okay, moving closer to squeeze her forearm as she looked at her with concerned eyes. For a second Tara wanted to explain how far she had been from okay just a few hours ago, how hard it had been to pull herself back to any semblance of okay. Or whatever mask of okay she currently was wearing, anyway. But a glance at the stake held lightly in the Slayer's other hand quickly pulled her out of that fantasy. This was Buffy; Buffy had things to do. She didn't have time for this... "I-It was X-men." Tara whispered, as if that could answer Buffy's question. But how could it? To anyone but her, any time before tonight, it had been nothing but a normal movie, tied to memories of nothing but a mundane and normal night… "Um, one of them, at least. I think there are a few…" Tara continued anyway, pulling her hand away from Buffy's grasp and hugging herself lightly. The Slayer frowned at her, saddened by the apparent rejection and too tired to hide it.

"Tara…" Buffy persisted, not fooled by her friend's avoiding eyes, "I think there was more than just a movie going on…" She probed with a concerned frown, moving ever closer to her friend as if readying to take her into an embrace.

"What about you guys?" Tara asked instead, not at all ready for another outpouring of her grief so soon after the last. Her question worked in dissuading the Slayer, who immediately tensed at the words and retreated, sensing the turn in the conversation. "I think there was more than just clothes-getting going on too…" She pushed with a forced smile, now more than a little curious herself as to the reason for the pair's outing. The Slayer had made it more than clear that no one was to walk out after dusk if they could help it, a rule they had all agreed by without protest, not too keen on the emotional and physical pain that was bound to accompany running into a certain redhead. But it was far past dusk now, getting close to single-digit hours of the night, and an outing for socks and underwear was far from characteristic…

"No." Buffy persisted, though the guarded nature of her crossed arms more than gave her away, especially when coupled with her inability to look Tara in the eyes. "Xander was in _serious_ need of some decent smelling socks..." She continued to bluff, faltering for a second when she met Tara's eyes and was greeted by nothing but skepticism. The witch had spent a good amount of time learning when the Slayer was hiding from her, or from everyone else, knowing that the hiding was always accompanied by a desperate need to unload. "We…" Buffy started with a defeated frown, still avoiding Tara's gaze as she seemed to choose her words carefully, "We did pay a visit along the way…" Was what she finally settled with.

"To?" Tara prodded, her frown now deepening as her mind ran wild with possibilities. Had they gone hunting for _her_? Had Xander been their bait? Had they found her? The thoughts spiraled into darkness as Tara began to contemplate what such an encounter could mean: if Xander was okay; if Willow was… Her breath got caught in her throat at the thought, and she felt a dangerous tenseness set into her body.

"No, no. Not–" Buffy stuttered with wide eyes, noticing the paleness that had stolen the color from Tara's face, "It was the Rosenbergs," She finally admitted, and Tara felt the anxiousness leave her body, before slowly creeping in again at the new revelation. "They're not hurt or anything; they're okay." The Slayer assured her, no doubt guessing where the witch's thoughts had trailed to. The blonde ducked her head a little to meet Tara's lowered gaze, offering her a small smile and a comforting hand on her shoulder. "They just wanted to talk." Buffy assured her, even as the careful guardedness of her words began to return, "They told us they were free tonight, and heading off for another something-or-other in the morning so…" She shrugged nonchalantly, but the hardness in her eyes betrayed that she was more than a little angered by the parents' apparent indifference on the matter. Buffy turned back to Tara with concerned eyes, her frown deepening as she no doubt began to regret even the tangential mention of the upcoming funeral arrangements. "I-I would've asked you to come, but…" _But I probably would have magicked my body to overlap on itself while I curled up sobbing…_ Tara finished for her with a small, defeated smile. She couldn't hold it against her, she decided. She had just barely become capable of even thinking the word _funeral_ without bursting into a fit of tears.

"No. No, that's okay." Tara assured with a halfhearted smile, "I-I don't even think Sheila remembers me…" She admitted with a whisper, the tone surprising her in its sadness, and the accompanying trembling of her lips. Tara couldn't help but remember when she had first met Willow's mom, so nervous that every word she uttered would no doubt be used against her to prove her unworthiness. But Sheila had hardly looked at Tara long enough to see much beyond her gender, more eager to prove the political and economic benefits of normalizing same-sex marriage, and how glad she was that her daughter was being brave in her political stance. By the end of the night, Tara desperately missed the harsh grilling she had been expecting from her girlfriend's mother. But it hadn't bothered her then. Then, she had just placated herself with the thought that there would be many more Hanukkahs and Thanksgivings in their future. Many more opportunities for Tara to speak up to the woman who had raised the love of her life, hopefully enough for her to remember Tara's name…

 _But that isn't quite true anymore, is it..._ Tara mused. Maybe that was what caused her to hug at her sides so desperately now, and take an inconspicuous deep breath to calm the trembling that worked its way up her body.

"Ira asked about you." Buffy helpfully supplied, shifting her weight between her feet, more than a little unsure of what to say to the slightly distraught witch. Tara couldn't help but smile at the mention of the man. She could imagine him now, his hard eyes refusing to betray his grief even as his hands lightly trembled and his body tensed. She could see his concerned frown as he thought of his daughter's girlfriend. That shy brunette whom he'd smiled at so many years ago, back when both witches were still blessed with so much of their innocence. The young, happy girl he had nodded at in approval after a long and heavy quiz about Jewish traditions…

"Is he going to be there?" Tara asked, recovering from the momentary lapse in her composure with thoughts of seeing the older man again. The man she had dreamed would one day be her father-in-law… "At the f-f-f-f–" Tara sighed as she stuttered, immediately giving up on uttering that horrible word, closing her eyes and clenching her jaw as she fought the rising sting in her nose.

"Yeah. They said they could make time." Buffy smiled, bringing her other hand to witch's shoulder as well, and soothingly rubbing the girl's arms as Tara pointlessly tried to compose herself. "Took some back and forth though…" She muttered once the silence had grown thick.

"When?" Tara whispered in question, assuming that Buffy's words meant there had been a decision on the date. Even as the words left her trembling lips she wasn't quite sure if she wanted to know, or just crawl under her covers instead.

"Tara…" Buffy whispered from nearby, and Tara realized the blonde had stepped closer, and was now rubbing at her arms more incessantly. She knew the Slayer was probably readying herself for the witch to give in to her tears again. "I think you should probably just sleep…" She urged, concern apparent in her eyes. Tara looked deeper into those eyes, and realized that the redness in them might be from more than just tiredness…

"Buffy." Tara nonetheless insisted, steeling herself to maintain her composure. If Buffy had been crying, then the last thing she needed was to be witness to Tara's tears long enough for her own to resurface.

Buffy sighed at her friend's stubbornness, whispering an answer Tara had not quite been ready for, "Thursday."

"Oh." Was all her lungs could breathe in response.

"I know." The Slayer whispered, her voice breaking the slightest as she closed her eyes tightly, probably saying the words for the first time since the decision. "It was that or next month…" She attempted to explain with a defeated sigh.

"That's…" Tara murmured, not trusting her voice to venture above the lightest whisper, "Soon." She croaked, closing her eyes as well as her mind automatically started a countdown to the mentioned date. 24 hours in a day; 7 days a week; less than a week till Thursday. Even all the hours in a year now seemed far too few to allow her to prepare herself for even looking at black dresses.

"It is." Buffy whispered, her hands leaving Tara's shoulder as she moved them to lightly hug herself as well. The scientific part of Tara, rubbed off from her late lover, couldn't help but regard the behavior curiously as Buffy took a small, shaky breath, and she corrected her earlier assessment. Buffy had closed the door, yes. And for most days she managed to keep it that way. But the key to that lock was one she always carried with her, Tara realized. Even now held clutched in her right hand as she hugged herself, ready to open the door once more if Buffy let it, and probably poking into her skin with small splinters.

The silence turned the air around them into thick honey, and Tara soon found she couldn't breathe.

The two friends parted without another word, the blonde heading downstairs, and the brunette returning to her own room with heavy steps. Tara closed her eyes and leaned on the door behind her as it closed, letting a soft sigh escape from dry lips, and taking in a few deep breaths to silence her emotion. She let her mind wander back to the date, willing herself to be okay with it. Thursday. She could do that. She could do Thursday. It was just a day. She had lived through a thousand Thursdays. Spent hours in cemeteries. Attended three funerals already, burying the people she loved. She could do another. She could do it.

Tara repeated the words in her head, and felt her hands begin to steady as she changed into her pajamas, her trembling lips gradually fixing themselves back into a tight line. She hadn't let out a tear so far, she realized with a small smile. That was something, at least. She hoped it would last long enough for her to fall asleep tonight, even though she often woke up with her head over a moist pillow case. The headaches always made it so much harder to fall sleep…

She had just pulled back the covers to her bed when a light rustling met her ears, and Tara tensed when she realized she had neglected to close the windows with the recent disruptions in her night routine. Every evening she had made sure to close those windows, made it a point to drape the curtains across, robbing her of the natural glow of moonlight in lieu of letting in a more dangerous darkness. Every night she had done so without letting her mind wander as to why. And the one time she hadn't…

The rustling made its presence known again, accompanied by a shadow blocking the moonlight, and Tara's heart leapt to her throat after a few seconds of waiting, as the shadow refused to give way to the light behind it. She kept her eyes fixed on where they rested on her hand, gripping the covers tightly enough to feel her own nails dig at her palm through them. More precious seconds of stillness passed, and when the temptation to look up grew too much too bare, Tara only closed her eyes. No. She wouldn't let this happen. Not today. She couldn't. She would wait. And she would open her eyes, and the shadow would be gone. A cat. Or a bird. Or an errant cloud. She would breathe quietly, look up, and it would have gone away. It had to. It had to because…

 _She's gone._ The brunette whispered to herself in her mind. _Gone. She's gone. That's not her. She's gone._ Tara couldn't help but take in a shaky gasp as she heard familiar breathing from the shadow looming behind her window. Breathing that was far too human to satisfy her attempts at self-deception. _Thursday._ She continued desperately, _There's a funeral on Thursday. Her funeral. She's gone. She's dead. There's a funeral, and she's dead…_

But the figure only waited for her. Waited patiently like it had all the time in the world. Waited until she couldn't keep the silent tears from escaping. Waited until her legs shook underneath her, and her knuckles grew white from their death grip. Until her entire body trembled, and it hurt more to keep her eyes closed in the darkness than to look up. But as she finally gave up in her fight against her screaming heart, she realized that wasn't true at all. That none of the pain, from that night or from the week since their last meeting, nothing could compare to the striking agony that lay in wait for her when her eyes met emerald. A soft sound escaped her throat, somewhere between a wince of grief and a moan of yearning.

Willow just sat there, reclining casually on the windowsill outside the house, and smiled at her in a way that easily melted whatever remained of the brunette's heart. Her eyes, slowly becoming all of Tara's world, looked at her with nothing but aching concern and sadness for the tears that were now trailing down pale cheeks. And… love.

"Hi gorgeous…" The musical voice whispered tenderly, as if the words themselves were a soft caress against Tara's cheek, where her finger's couldn't reach. Willow's smile widened, seemingly content with just staring at the lover before her, and she sighed softly. "I missed you."

 _Me too..._ Tara's betraying mind silently answered back.

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay, so apparently I lied about being done with interlude-y chapters... This was really just meant to be a small lead in into a more meaty encounter (which has now been pushed to Chapters 8  & 9), but it really just took a mind of its own there. I like how it turned out though, and it was more than a little necessary.

Also, I've totally secretly turned into a Dawn apologist somehow after hating her with a passion when I watched the show. That girl's jut precious and almost relatable sometimes, even though she makes the most annoyingly stupid teenage bullshit mistakes (looking at you, _Potential_ , _Blood Ties_ , and somewhat at _OMWF_ and _Older and Far Away_. Oh! And _Normal Again_... AND _Empty Places_! God, why do I like her again?). Anyway, like I said before this was meant to be mostly Willow/Tara time, but hey, exploring characters. Yay!

So real quick wanted to satisfy my inner critic and say that I'm honestly very iffy about the way the last chapter (Ch6) turned out. I feel as though the bar scene might seem a bit jarring and pointless (the one line I wanted to include in it didn't even make the final cut), and the last scene is also jarring and confusing (though that one was jarring on purpose, but not sure if it was too much). Like I said, that chapter just gave me a headache of trouble, and I ended up just exhausted with the amount of editing and fix-upping that I had to do to make things remotely pretty (I only had a vague idea of a scattering of small scenes I wanted to include when I started. Tip, _not_ a good way to plan) and my editing goggles were just coated with a thick layer of _JUST GET IT DONE_ near the end... So, let me know if there was anything that seemed off in there, of if I'm just an insane person, and I'll try to fix it at some point (and let everyone know when I do, of course)

Also! For anyone still confused about the last scene in Ch6, aka Tito-gate ( _don't_ ), it will get explored in a few chapters. I'm not leaving you hanging, an explanation is incoming as to what exactly made Will explode. It was meant to be this chapter, but I don't hate you guys enough to make you read 30k words straight...

 **As always, reviews are greatly appreciated! Let me know if you liked something or didn't, helps me improve and keeps me motivated.**


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